X Men: The (fan fic) Series
by JayCee's RedGold
Summary: When Professor Xavier's hand is forced into action, he's given a choice: stand by while his former friend tears the mutant community apart, or let his former students stand their ground and fight. Proposed X-Men television series in prose format. Now showing: Episode 1X06 – The Trask at Hand
1. Preview

From the writers who brought you _X-Men: Among Thieves_, the _Thieves Guild_ Series, and the _Gym Class (Anti)Heroes_ series **X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**.

XMTFFS is a series of short stories done in a mock-television fashion. The stories are written in prose but are of a length in keeping with a standard television show running time and formatted the same way with a teaser, acts, and tag. There is a central core cast of characters with which these stories will revolve around but there are plenty of guest characters planned. The universe is the realistic movie-verse style but will draw mostly from canon comics with a touch from the animated shows as well.

They will 'air', i.e. be posted, like a television series on Sunday's starting September 22nd with the pilot episode. I am posting the teaser, or lead-in, for that episode tonight.

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**Summary: **There is a silent war which rages within the world of humans, that of mutant against mutant. One side believes in peace, the other dominance.

Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants is a vast network of individuals who have set about manipulating the world's governments and scientists in order to ensure their place as humanities rulers once the truth about mutants becomes known to the populace.

Xavier's School for Higher Learning is a haven for those who wish to learn how to both better the world, and themselves, through the use of their gifts. They do not seek power, only equality.

When Professor Xavier's hand is forced into action, he's given a choice: stand by while his former friend tears the mutant community apart, or let his former students stand their ground and fight.

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**Episode #:** 1X00

**Title: **The X-Men (pilot)

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**1X00 – The X-Men – Teaser**

A night watchman sat in the gate house watching TV instead of keeping an eye on the security feeds. Not that it would have done him much good had he been vigilant. Within seconds of his door opening someone was behind him and he didn't have time to react before pressure against the back of his head sent him into the darkness. His body was then dragged off to the side, hands zip-tied around a beam.

Hitting the controls, a white haired figure sped through the opening gate and made a beeline for a guard who was making his rounds, checking the parameter. The man suffered the same fate as his fellow guard, a blow to the head knocking him out, hands and feet bound should he wake up too soon.

With superhuman speed, Pietro Maximoff, known to the mutant world as Quicksilver, ran up to the side of the building away from the entrance and waited in the shadows.

And waited…

He checked his watch again. Eight-thirty and twenty-six seconds changed to eight-thirty and twenty seven.

The Ford Mustang came screaming through the entrance only forty-five seconds later than it was supposed to, it might have well been an hour for all Quicksilver could care.

With the radio blaring AWOLNATION, the car skidded to a stop, turning sidewise as it did so, the acrid smell of burnt rubber in the air. Quicksilver didn't even blink as the vehicle came within inches of hitting him.

"Well, if the inside guards didn't know we were here," Quiksilver frowned and adjusted his silver colored racing jacket as the car's engine was cut and a woman got out of the driver's seat, "I'm sure they do now."

"Running late," she was a Southern belle with an accent to match. Dark auburn hair was set off by a natural white streak down the middle and her body was covered toe to neck due to the unfortunate nature of her mutation, "blame St John."

"Wait, wait, what am I being blamed for?" St John Allderdyce slipped out of the passenger's seat. He was usually referred to as Pyro given his tendency to light anything and everything on fire given half a chance, or a quarter of chance, or any chance really, "and was it epic?"

Rogue rolled her eyes at the man but she was suppressing a smile and a laugh, her eyes twinkling as she said, "You tried to burn down the section chief's house because, and I quote, 'the building is a rich flashover just waiting to happen'."

"And I stand by that statement," he defended himself in his Australian lilt.

"Right," she held out the vowel as she came around the car, the last member of their team exiting from the back seat. "Whatever ya say, arson boy."

"Not arson, art," Pyro was always very adamant about that point, "I shouldn't have to keep telling you all this."

Their fourth teammate, a large Cretan by the name of Dominikos Petrakis, shook his head as he joined them, "Only you would find art in fire consuming everything in its path."

"That's it, though, isn't it," Pyro wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulder, or at least tried to, and started to speak conspiratorially, "fire consuming everything that will burn… it's like a statement on modern capitalism."

"No, I do not think it is," the Greek mutant frowned at him.

"Yes, well," Quicksilver ignored them and looked to his second in command, his Romani accent getting thicker in his annoyance, which could be troublesome as he tended to speak faster than most _normal_ people, "did you at least get everything?"

"All up here," Rogue smiled as she tapped her temple, "let's get this two-step started."

The group walked over to the front entrance of the research facility for Bastion Industries which was their latest mission. It was a typical office building, an open lobby with glass doors accenting the front. A guard shouted at them as he drew his gun but Quicksilver zipped over to him before he had much of a chance to move. With another quick blow to the back of the head, the guard was down and cuffed to the table leg with his own cuffs.

"Just how does blue flame represent post-industry Britain?" Dominikos asked his spiky haired friend, the color of which was just a shade off of orange, the pyromaniac's latest fashion choice.

"Don't encourage him, Avalanche," Quicksilver sighed, "we have a mission to complete."

Pyro gave the group leader a frown but shrugged and leaned against the security desk as Rogue went around to the main console. With a few taps of her gloved fingers, she grinned, "And with that, the system has returned to standby. The guard didn't alert anyone beyond this building and…" she tapped a few more keys, "no one will. Cameras and door alarms are now disabled."

"Bring up all the guard positions," Quicksilver gestured to the camera feeds.

Rogue blinked a few times as if she was thinking really hard, then her fingers went to town on the keyboard. The woman's mutation was somewhat unique, while the ability to drain a person's life force was not unheard of, Rogue was able to retain a copy of the victim's psyche which included their memories. Although she could not recall all memories at will, she could find details upon absorption and hold on those close until she needed them.

A map came up on the screen and red dots indicated the location of the guards who had transponders in their ID badges.

"Alright," Quicksilver decided that his plan wouldn't need any adjustments, "I've got the guards. Pyro," he snatched the guard's badge and handed it to him, "you hit the main servers. Rogue, the vault, you swiped the section chief's badge, right?" she nodded and he continued. "Avalanche, watch our backs."

…

"Servers are on the top floor," Rogue told Pyro as they headed towards the elevators, Quicksilver already disappearing into the stairwell. "You still got the passwords I gave you?"

Pyro held up his right hand, a bunch of random numbers and letters scribbled on the palm. The man was actually right handed but seeing as his left palm was covered by the control mechanism for the compact flamethrower which ran across his back, the feed nozzle poking out of his right sleeve, he worked with what he had.

"Good," Rogue hit both up and down buttons as the vault was on a sub-level, "let us know when you're done," she tapped her ear piece communicator.

"Will do," the up elevator popped open and he slipped inside.

"And no fire!" she shouted as an afterthought, the doors closing on his grinning face.

…

High above the five-story building, a dark clad figure soared on the winds and landed on the rooftop, looking for an entrance.

…

Two more figures came through the back dock, not terribly surprised that the alarm didn't go off, knowing that those inside would have disabled it already.

…

Pyro found the server rooms easy enough, passing at least one knocked out guard on his way.

"All the guards are down," Quicksilver's voice came over the communicator, "I'm checking out the chief's office."

"Roger that," Rogue confirmed.

Following the signs, the pyromaniac walked into the main server room and sat down at the computer desk. Computer codes in hand, literally, he began to hack into the system to retrieve the files that were requested by their boss.

Slipping a pocket passport drive from his coat, he plugged it in and started downloading the files. It only took a minute or two for Pyro to get bored. "DuPont FM200 Waterless Fire Suppression system, fancy" he mused as he glanced between the various nodes on the ceiling, "but the backup water sprinklers, so last decade."

The computer beeped and the transfer was complete. Removing the passport drive, he placed it in his jacket and tapped his earpiece, "I'm done, heading back to the lobby."

"Almost finished," Rogue came over the line, she was pulling hardcopy information from the vault, "meet you there."

Whistling to himself, Pyro exited the main room and started down the hallway towards the elevators. As he came around a corner, he stopped abruptly. Instinctively, Pyro's right hand raised as his left thumb and fingers worked the controls of his flamethrower.

Built into his undershirt, several flexible hoses ran from compact compartments of different mixes of fuel, from standard butane to Grade A rocket. Each container was made of hard, durable, polymer plastics and held the fluids under compression. It looked much like what you'd see on an astronaut's EVO suit, only, well, a lot more flammable and slightly insane.

Just as he clicked the button which would strike the igniter wrapped around the wrist of his right hand, a lightning bolt snaked across the hallway, striking the sprinkler head. Within seconds, water began pouring down on the pyromaniac. This would make creating and controlling fire very difficult… which was exactly why she did it.

"You're no fun," he frowned at the tall, dark skinned woman with long white hair.

She raised one pert eyebrow in an amused response.

Deciding that taking on the mutant known as Storm by himself was not a very sane thing to do, even by his standards, Pryo turned on his heels and ran back down the hall towards the secondary stairwell.

…

The fire alarm went off and Avalanche immediately began to scan the lobby and the outside, looking for any sign of what was going on.

"Mayday," Pyro shouted across the line, "we got a Weather Witch, the Boy Scout can't be too far behind."

"On my way," Quicksilver immediately responded. "Avalanche, you copy."

Before Dom had a chance to answer, a blast of red light shot out from one of the many side hallways and struck the mutant, sending him backwards into the wall.

…

"Rogue," Quicksilver called her name over the line when Avalanche didn't answer.

"On it," she said instantly, slipping the files she had taken into her brown leather jacket.

Running for the stairwell, she pulled off her gloves and tucked them into her pockets. The Boy Scout, though he liked to call himself Cyclops, had probably gotten to Avalanche. While the geokinetic could take a direct hit or two from Cyclops' optic blast, there was no reason to assume he was okay if he wasn't answering.

Taking the steps two at a time, she made her way up to the ground floor but she was at the East end of building from the lobby, she'd have to take the long connecting hallway to get to her teammate.

_Snikt_.

Upon exiting the stairs and hearing the distinctive sound, Rogue managed to duck just in time as a pair of Adamantium claws swiped over her head.

Rolling, she was back on her feet within seconds, facing down the man known as Wolverine. He was about her height and made up for his lack of stature with a very gruff and intimidating presence. The mutant's gift was three bone claws that shot out from the top of his hands. They had been covered in the strongest metal on Earth, Adamantium. This made them unbreakable and deadly sharp.

Wolverine's other mutations also included heightened senses and a healing factor that left most others in the dust, practically coming back from the dead on more than one occasion.

Rouge would know, she had relived the memories.

"Well, at least you're learning," Rogue frowned as she took in the high collar leather biker jacket he wore, with matching full gloves, leaving only the skin of his head vulnerable to her touch. "What we at now, 12-8?"

"I don't keep track," he said with a growl, releasing the Adamantium claws in his other fist.

"Sure ya do," she grinned, then made her move.

Diving low, she kept under his first swing, then bought up both arms in a boxer's defense to block his second attack. His entire skeleton had been replaced with the metal meaning he had a lot more weight behind his punches than his build would suggest.

She tried to reach up and grab his face but he was quicker than someone as heavy as he was ought to be. Another swipe came at her head and she ducked, managing to slip around him while trying to reach back behind her to grab his neck on her way. Sensing what she was doing, he lunged forward out of her grasp.

Frustrated, Rogue bounced on her toes as she turned to face him, the man laughing.

"Same ol' moves there, skunk," he brought his claws up.

Growling as the voice of Wolverine taunted her both in person and in her head, she got ready to attack again, "Bring it, short stack."

…

Dom mentally shook the cobwebs from his head, reeling from the impact of hitting the wall. The mutant known as Cyclops was able to compress any light in his field of vision so densely that it became something akin to a laser beam, though it was less like a cutting torch and more a concussion blast. It was so powerful it could break though typical masonry and do serious damage to a normal person's internal organs.

Thankfully, as a secondary mutation, Avalanche was a lot sturdier than most humans. He wasn't classified as invulnerable, but pressure waves did little more than knock him on his butt when he wasn't prepared. So he stayed completely still as he felt the vibrations of his attacker slowly approach. A moment later and the man turned and went towards the sounds of fighting, probably thinking Avalanche was out for the count.

The Boy Scout should really have known better…

…

Pyro managed to cut his way through howling winds past several cubicles towards the stairwell. The entire floor's sprinkler system had gone off, leaving puddles of water everywhere which were being whipped up by the Witch's ability to affect the elements of weather. Ororo Munroe, aka Storm, aka The Weather Witch, aka The Goddess, aka don't mess with this woman, was limited by being indoors, but she still managed to create a typhoon in the office space.

A silver slip of light zipped past him and the fire mutant turned in time to see Storm go flying across the cubicles, landing out of sight.

"I got this," Pietro appeared next to him, "get downstairs and help the others."

"Right," he nodded, making his way to the exit.

…

Rogue and Wolverine continued their fight, the woman managing to keep just out and under the deadly claws but unable to get a strike against Wolverine's bare skin.

Unfortunately, Rogue saw her mistake too late and left herself open. Wolverine punched at her gut, his claws retracting just in time to keep from skewering her. The force of the blow knocked the air from her lungs and sent her flying backwards down the hallway, skidding to a stop on her back.

On a positive note, she was at least that much closer to the exit.

"You know," he drawled, almost sounding like a fellow Southerner, even though he was Canadian, "one of these days, I'm not gonna pull my punch," he accented his words by popping out the claws he had retracted.

"Oh, come on," she groaned a bit as she turned on her side to push herself up, rib cage hurting, "we both know you won't kill me."

"You bet your life on that?" he smirked at her.

"Yeah," she breathlessly stood to face him, "cause if you did, you'd have to fight, who, Quicksilver? Nah, he's no fun."

"Back away, Rogue," the Boy Scout joined them in the hall, behind her, "I don't want to hurt you."

"Come on, one-eye," she turned sideways so she could see both men in her peripheral, "you're a bigger softy than Claws over here."

"You'll excuse me if I don't share your opinions," he responded with an air of self-righteousness, hand on his visor's control, "we should have mutual respect for humans, not bully them."

"It ain't about being the bully," she stared him down coldly, "it's about surviving."

The floor began to buckle and Rogue instinctively rushed backwards against the wall. Part of the floor gave way under Cyclops who dropped with it to the level below. A massive crack continued down the middle of the hallway and made the Wolverine waver though he managed to keep his balance.

"We'll call this one a draw," she hollered at the feral mutant and ran down the edge of the damage towards Avalanche who was kneeling, his palm resting on the cool concrete.

"Get the car," the geokinetic told her quickly, "I will hold them off."

"Right," she nodded, heading to the lobby, clicking her ear piece, "Pyro, report."

"Almost downstairs," his voice replied.

"Avoid the East wing," she told him, reaching the lobby, "Claws is cornered there. Quicksilver, how are ya with the Witch?"

There was a delay before he answered, "I hate lightening. Did we get everything?"

"I got the hard copies," Rogue exited out the glass doors and went around to the side of the building.

"Digital files secure," Pyro added.

"Mission complete then," Quicksilver sounded was running and talking at the same time, a strange echoing to his voice. "You three get out, I'll keep the Witch busy so she can't follow and I'll meet up with you at the rendezvous point."

"Acknowledged," she frowned at the slashed tires on the Mustang she had stolen. "Damn, Claws trashed our ride," a noise caught her attention and she turned to see a cop car driving through the gate. "Never mind, I found another."

…

Avalanche braced for the attack, fending off Wolverine as the feral mutant launched himself over a second gap Dom had made in the floor to try to stop him. Backing off, the seismic mutant managed to avoid the initial strike. As the shorter man rounded on him, Dom backed into the lobby, taking out another piece of the floor to slow his foe down. Again, Wolverine leapt over the hole and kept his balance, baring his claws as he did so.

"Don't make me put you down, Avalanche," the gruff man said.

"Hey, Badger!" Pyro's voice called out and they stopped at the sound of flames igniting.

Taking a chance, Avalanche glanced to the side to see Pyro standing at the lobby doors, a literal ball of fire in his hand which grew exponentially into a large, four foot wide hand. He thrust out with his hand and the flaming image flew across the room to float above the still unconscious guard.

"Now," the fire mutant was downright cheerful, "I wonder, did the company pay for the nice fire retardant stuff or you think his uniform is one of those cheap ones which go up like that," he snapped his fingers and his eyes practically glowed, "Wanna find out?"

"Pyro," Wolverine warned.

"We've played this game of chicken before, old man," the Aussie chuckled lightly, "you turned over a new leaf," then he grinned, "and I don't blink."

After a tense few seconds, the gruff mutant retracted his claws and took a step back.

"Well," Pyro frowned as Avalanche headed towards the Aussie, "that was a tad anti-climatic."

Honking from outside indicated that Rogue was waiting and he could see the lights of a cop car flashing out front. Grabbing Pyro by the back of his coat he lead his teammate out as Pyro had to keep line of sight on his flames lest he lose control.

Reaching the cop car, popped the passenger door. Avalanche half-threw Pyro against the opening and made for the back. They both piled in quickly as Pyro continued to hold the flames over the guard.

Pyro once told Avalanche that the thing about heroes, even anti-heroes, is that if they know you're just going to kill the hostage anyway, they will react accordingly. So keep your word, let them 'win' this small victory. Once you do that, you can manipulate them into almost anything.

Sometimes the pyromaniac made entirely too much sense.

"Quicksilver," Rogue said as she put the car into gear and they shut the doors, "we're out."

"Right behind you," he replied and the Southern gal hit the gas on the police cruiser, spinning the tires as they raced away from the building.

Pyro grinned, running his hands through his mop of wet, lanky, hair, "So, wanna stop for Chinese?"

…

Logan ran out the front door once the fire dissipated and watched as the stolen cop car exited the parking lot, disappearing down the road. A silver streak shot from the side of the building and blended into the night.

They'd never be able to catch up with them now.

"You okay, Summers?" he asked as the other mutant joined him outside, his jacket covered in a layer of dust from his trip down to the basement thanks to Avalanche.

"What is it they say," Cyclops was wiping at his sleeves, "nothing hurt but my pride."

"Third theft in two weeks," Logan grumbled, "they're planning something big and not a damn thing we've been able to do about it."

"I know," Summers frowned and they both looked to the approaching sirens, "I know…"

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_X-Men: The (fan fic) Series_

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

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For more information, please go to my blog: xmenthefanficseries DOT com

The link is also in my profile.


	2. 1X00 - The X-Men (pilot)

**And here is the rest of the first episode. Thank you for reading! And for the reviews, it's so nice to know I'm being stalked... erm... that didn't come out right? Oh well! Thank you guys for the reviews. Enjoy!**

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**1X00 – The X-Men – Act I**

Emergency services were scattered about the parking lot of the research facility. Two fire trucks stood by as firemen made sweeps of the building. Almost half a dozen ambulances treated the guards, though most were given a clean bill of health by the paramedics. Marked and unmarked police cars were dotted between, everyone trying to figure out what exactly just happened.

Hovering at the edge of the scene, Scott watched as an older gentleman, blonde hair with a linebacker's face, separated himself from a group of mixed police and federal agents to wander over to where the mutant was standing.

"Agent Duncan," Scott greeted the man.

"Summers," Federal Agent Frederick Duncan responded with a nod, checking no one was paying attention to them.

"What did you find out?" Scott had exchanged his visor for a set of ruby quartz, banded sunglasses, attempting to blend in, although the short feral man next to him and the beautiful white haired goddess at his other side made that near impossible.

"No real injuries, a few concussions," Duncan gestured towards the complex, "mostly just damage from the sprinklers going off and whatever happened to the floor. Dominikos Petrakis's work I take it?"

"The whole team was here," he nodded.

The FBI agent frowned at that, "Third robbery in two weeks."

"Noticed that ourselves," Logan said gruffly, crossing his arms. "What they steal this time?"

"Dunno yet," Duncan shrugged. "Seems the Section Chief is currently in what is described as a comatose state."

"Rogue. It'll wear off soon," Scott said more for himself seeing as the agent had experience with the Brotherhood's Acolytes. Duncan would have recognized the effects of Rogue's mutation.

"Best guess at the moment," the agent continued, "they took the same as before, data and hardcopy files on whatever black op military or DARPA project Bastion Industries was working on."

"Any luck in figuring out what that is?" Storm asked.

"Hitting walls, Bastion, DARPA, NSA, Homeland, DoD… they keep pulling the 'above your pay grade' shtick," he then gave her a curious glance, "any luck with your friend, Mr Silvercloud?"

The woman forced back a grimace, "He's being… difficult."

"Any word on the Acolytes?" Logan interrupted.

"The stolen cop car was found across town in a parking lot," Duncan filled them in. "They probably stole another and by the time we figure out which, they'll have moved on through three more, it's their M.O."

"The way Rogue drives," the Wolverine gave a growl that was somewhere between annoyance and appreciation, "they could be three states over by now."

"Probably," Duncan frowned then tilted his head as he just thought of something. "Did you hear about last night?"

"No," Scott didn't like that tone, usually meant bad things.

"A lead computer scientist for Bastion Industries, Switzerland office, was found murdered," he filled them in, "the wife looks good for it, but frankly, it has Mystique written all over it, not that it can be proved in court."

"Metal Head's little assassin," Logan did not like that woman, at all, and Scott still wasn't exactly sure what the root of that animosity was.

"I don't know why he was targeted," Duncan admitted, "but best guess he's been working on whatever it is the Brotherhood has been stealing. If I find out more, I'll pass it on."

"Thank you, Fred," Scott decided that there wasn't much left for them now, "and you'll see to it no one knows of our involvement here tonight?"

"As always," the man gave a resigned smile and as the three turned to leave, he spoke up again, "Hey, you might want to remind Charles that the Brotherhood is stepping up their game, the Government is a tension line ready to snap in all directions… he can't just wait around hoping everything will turn out okay on its own."

Scott nodded to the man who returned the gesture and headed back into the fray of police and agents.

"He's right, you know," Storm spoke with a touch of sadness in her voice. "Magneto will continue to escalate until he's given the government no choice but to declare war on the Brotherhood, and that war will spill over into non-combatants both mutant and human."

"I know, Ororo," Scott was beginning to feel like a broken record, "I know."

…

"_I said don't stop, don't stop, talking to me_," Rogue and Pryo sang loudly as their Ford Taurus sped down the highway, radio blaring. "_Stop, don't stop, don't stop, giving me things._"

Dom sat in the back seat, quite used to such an occurrence, but that not making it any better.

When Avalanche joined up with the Brotherhood two years ago, Rogue, Pyro and Quicksilver had already spent almost a decade together training under Mystique. They were like siblings, Quicksilver being the older brother who was apt to try and do everything himself because he found most people slow and inept, Pyro was quite possibly clinically insane but apparently his therapist as a teenager didn't feel comfortable making that diagnoses. Rogue, well, she was the sister who managed to keep both of them in line, while also being borderline schizophrenic herself.

On more than one occasion Dom had to ask himself what the hell he got himself into the middle of, but generally the company was nice and the pay was excellent… if he could just convince them that neither could carry a tune.

"_I run, they run, everybody run run_," they continued, "_and we're all just having fun!_"

Salvation was had when Pyro's phone rang. Rogue clicked the radio off with the steering wheel controls as the Australian answered, taking a moment before putting the device on speaker.

"Rogue," Pietro's voice came over the line, "been a change of plans. I've texted Pyro a new address for the drop off."

"Why the change?" she asked as Pyro started to fiddle with the phone, pulling up the text and then feeding the information into the dashboard GPS.

"Magneto's orders," he answered and that put the end to it as neither was likely to question the leader of the Brotherhood.

"Alright," she shrugged as she slid the car around a slow poke, the GPS screen showing the new route.

Dom leaned forward to see it himself and noted an extra hour added to their drive time… what fun.

"We should stop and switch cars," she said after a moment's musing.

"That's fine," Quicksilver said curtly, "just don't take too long."

"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes, for Pietro everything took too long, it was a personality trait that tended to grate on everyone's nerves but seeing as it was a condition of his mutation, they just dealt with it.

"Ooo," Pyro was fiddling with the GPS, "let's stop here, they have a Burger King."

"Seriously?" Rogue gave him one of her 'looks'.

"I'm hungry!" he said unabashedly.

"Fine," she sighed and turned her attention back to the road, "but what do I say?"

"I can torture all the politicians and hipsters I want," the fire mutant replied systematically, "but don't annoy the people who handle your food."

"Exactly."

…

It was late, not terribly so, but enough that the younger students of Xavier's Institute of Higher Learning were bound to their rooms by curfew. The older kids and adult teachers were still up and watched quietly as the three mutants returned from their failed attempt at stopping the Brotherhood agents.

They all knew what Cyclops, Wolverine, and Storm had gone to do… to fight.

"Scott," Jean Grey greeted the three in the foyer and it didn't take a telepath to see the defeat on their faces, "I take it things didn't go well."

"No," he sighed, taking the events hard, again.

Scott Summers was a dedicated person, he took everything onto his shoulders whether it was asked of him or not. It made him a strong leader but it also made every loss too personal to bear.

"The Professor still up?" he asked.

"In his study," she actually just left him.

"Thanks, Jean," he gave her a half smile and the three headed down the side hall towards Xavier's study.

Jean wanted to reach out to him, physically, mentally, whatever he would accept, but she already knew that it was something of a lost cause. The man was tightly wound, keeping everyone close but at arm's length.

"Isn't it past curfew?" Jean asked Katherine 'Kitty' Pryde and Doug Ramsey who were watching from the rec-room door, the pair quickly scattering.

…

_Come in_, Charles sent the psychic message to the three individuals approaching just as they got to the door. Wordlessly they entered, Scott leading the way to stand in front of the Professor's desk.

"Did you get there in time?" he asked, knowing full well he could easily pluck the answers from their minds but he learned long ago that this made even those closest to him a bit uneasy.

"Yes," Scott nodded, "when you picked up on Rogue using her powers so close to a Bastion Industries facility, we were right to think they were going to hit the place."

"Didn't help much," Wolverine growled as he leaned against a side table. "I wish you'd let me _deal_ with those kids," he emphasized the word with a _snikt_ of his claws.

"As I have said many times, Logan," Charles said sternly, "I will not let you be party to murder on my account," then his words turned sympathetic, "and wasn't that one of the reasons you left the Weapon X program?"

Wolverine grumbled and looked away. For years, longer than even Charles had been alive, Logan had known nothing but how to be a soldier, to kill on orders. It had cost him those he loved, and some of his memories. Logan wanted to take his life back… but he didn't know where to start. Charles was not about to let him give up that goal so easily, especially with his own aversion to the killing of others on the line.

"Truth of the matter is, Professor," Scott spoke with a released fervor, "we're out-gunned. Magneto's Acolytes, this is what they do, what they train for. One on one we have a chance but, well, we know Quicksilver, Rogue, and Pryo have been working together for nearly a decade, they know each other's weaknesses, how their powers complement each other," he sighed. "We'll never be able to fight them as a team if we don't provide the same conviction."

Charles regarded the young man for a long moment, "What are you suggesting, Scott?"

"That we have a dedicated team as well," he took a second before continuing. "We train together, learn how to work in-synch, how to contain the Acolytes. Otherwise why bother trying to go after them again?"

"And who would be on this team?" he asked cautiously.

"Logan, when he's around," Cyclops didn't even try to hide the annoyance in his voice of the older man's random disappearing act. Scott was a man of structure, Logan his polar opposite. "Ororo, when her headmistress duties don't get in the way."

"This school doesn't run itself," Ororo said wryly, but Charles was lucky to have her as his headmistress. There was no way he could be able to keep the school functioning without her. Born of a Kenyan princess and an American Journalist, Ororo grew up in Egypt until her parents were killed. Scott wasn't very clear on her history between then and coming to Xavier's, but he gathered it was a lot rougher than wrangling teenagers.

Scott gave Ororo an appreciative nod before turning back to Charles, "I was thinking maybe asking Jean, JP, and Bobby. Jean's gone out with us on missions before when we've needed a telepath. Jean-Paul has the training and experience. Bobby, well, his maturity levels are somewhat lacking, but he's always pulled through for us when we've needed him to."

"You're talking most of the teaching staff," Charles frowned, he was very much lucky to have any teachers at all in a mutant school when the world at large didn't even know mutants existed.

"Yes," Scott admitted a tad reluctantly, "but it would be strictly volunteer."

Charles steepled his fingers together as he considered what Cyclops was asking. He was right, Magneto only used the most highly trained individuals for his Acolytes and the Professor had personal experience with a few of them. They were not easy to handle.

"What do you think of all this, Ororo?" he asked of his colleague and friend.

"It feels like an arms race," the regal looking woman said bluntly, "but the problem is, Magneto will continue his proliferation regardless of what we, or the government, do. At this point, war is inevitable. I don't like it, but if we are to have any hope of protecting ourselves and maintaining some kind of peace, we have to be able to meet him head on."

The Professor sighed, "I thought you might say that."

…

Rogue pulled up outside a typical non-descript warehouse, the must-see destination for any clandestine meeting of a reported terrorist outfit. Might as well hang a sign that said 'shady dealings inside'. Of course, she only thought that because over two dozen voices in her head pointed out the cliché.

They then started to argue over the best, worst, craziest, wildiest, places to do a drop off. She just tuned them out, she had gotten much better at doing that over the past few years. Used to be Rogue couldn't hear herself think over the voices, now they were constant background noise, like a fan or running machinery.

Heading inside, they were met by Pietro who took the drive and hard copies. "Made decent time," that was a high compliant from 'oh speedy leader', as opposed to 'oh fearless leader', not that they called him that to his face. Pietro was a good man, her friend, but she found his sense of humor somewhat lacking at times.

"Not much traffic," she shrugged, ignoring the look on Pietro's face when he realized Pyro was still wearing his Burger King crown.

Magneto, the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants, stood in the center of the room, speaking to two of his lieutenants. He was an older man, well old enough to be her father actually, but his hair had already gone grey. Not that anyone could see the hair from under the helmet he often wore, one whose unique design would allow him immunity to the effects of any kind of telepathic scan or illusion. The helmet had been painted a very mute color of purple so Magneto had taken to wearing business suits with a similar color trim and tie to match.

Most couldn't pull the look off, but for him it strangely worked.

Standing next to Magento was Sabretooth, a tall man with shaggy blonde hair, a healing factor to rival Wolverine's, and a blood-thirstiness unmatched by anyone. He was one of the most feared members of the Brotherhood because he had no compulsion against killing, she knew for a fact Sabretooth loved it.

Off to the side, guarding some guy trussed up in a chair, stood a blue skinned woman named Raven Darkholme, otherwise known as Mystique, the Brotherhood's elite assassin.

"Heard there was trouble," Mystique commented as she walked over to the group.

"Nothing we couldn't handle, momma," she played it off, after all, it was the truth, so what if she got punched in the gut and could feel the bruises forming.

"Good," and that was all her adopted mother would have to say on the subject.

"Ah," Magneto's attention was finally on them and he frowned when his eyes fell on Pyro, "St John, some decorum, please, we have an esteemed guest," he gestured to the prisoner.

Reluctantly, Pyro slipped the crown off of his head, rolling his eyes and making semi-rude hand gestures at Magneto when he didn't think the man was looking. Pyro was the only person crazy enough to do such a thing… which is why he got away with it. Still, Rogue reached over and grabbed his hands to still them before they discovered how far Pyro could cross the line.

"Rogue," Magneto looked back to her, "find out where the last piece to our puzzle lies. Mr. Donovan here has proven most resilient to more… traditional methods of information extraction."

So that's why he changed the drop off, Magneto wanted her to use her ability on this man. Rogue hated absorbing victims of recent torture, she always had to fight through a lot of pain in order to get what she needed. If she refused, her mother would accuse her of being weak, of letting her mutation rule her life instead of taking this opportunity to practice better control.

With a sigh she attempted to cover, Rogue walked over to the unconscious prisoner, seeing the welts, bruises, and cuts that were her mother's handy work. Slipping off a glove, she reluctantly reached out and touched his face, blue lines forming on his skin as his blood vessels reacted to the draw of the man's life force into her body.

Rogue only held on for a few seconds, but that was long enough. First came the recent memories of getting beaten within an inch of his life by Mystique, and before that, being caught by Sabretooth who never handled any captured prisoner daintily. She could feel his pain, it echoing across her skin like a phantom illness.

Pitching to the side, Rogue threw up what was left of her Baconator before taking deep, calming breaths, shuffling away the pain to find what she needed underneath.

"You get it?" her mother asked.

"Yeah," Rogue coughed and cleared her throat, "I got it."

"Well then," Magneto was pleased, "seems you four have your next assignment."

"Yes, sir," Pietro replied as team leader.

…

Scott looked up as Bobby was the last one to enter the study, Jean and Jean-Paul having already arrived. The cyro mutant was barely an adult, twenty one all of two months, but he had stayed behind after graduating from the Institute in order to help out with the ever increasing student population. He still had a lot of growing to do, but as Scott told the Professor, Bobby pulled through when it counted.

"Sup?" he asked when he realized the office was busy at this time of night.

"You hear about what went down earlier this evening?" Scott asked the young man.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "You went after Magneto's crew, they won, again."

Logan gave a bit of a growl at the use of the word 'again' and Scott chose to ignore it. "They're stepping up their attacks, Magneto keeps continues this line of action and no mutant will be safe from retaliation from the government or military."

"Not to mention what it will do for our image once the world learns of our existence," Jean added.

"We can't let them believe they have to fear all of us," Ororo agreed.

"Exactly," Scott nodded to the two women. "We can't sit idly by when we have a chance to do something to protect ourselves and our kind. That's why I propose we create a dedicated response team to deal with any threats that Magneto's Brotherhood present."

"You want us on that team?" Jean asked and he wasn't sure if she came up with that on her own or skimmed it from his mind, it was hard to tell with her. As a high level telepath, Jean found it difficult sometimes not to accidently soak in surface thoughts from those around her, but she wasn't stupid either, her mind was as sharp as her hair was red.

"Yes," he gave her a light smile, knowing that she would agree to join, but with the Professor sitting behind him he had to add, "and this is volunteer only. We would practice outside of our normal school duties."

"The children will always come first," Xavier joined the conversation, "their safety and their education."

"I think I can manage that," Jean returned Scott's smile, "and you know you've only ever had to ask, I'm more than willing to help."

"I know, Jean," he always found it hard to keep eye contact with the beautiful woman, "thank you."

"So," Bobby scratched at his head, "you're offering us the chance to actually use our mutation for something purposeful outside of the school? I'm in."

"I don't think you quite understand what Scott's asking," Jean-Paul said dryly, of the three he was the most reserved about the situation, "he's wanting you to fight," his eyes flicked over to Scott's, "to be a soldier."

Scott winced at the word, "More like a policeman, or a fireman."

"Ain't much of a difference from where I stand," the speed mutant would be the one to know. Canadian born, like Logan, Jean-Paul and his twin sister, Jeanne-Marie, had joined the military in hopes of being able to better understand their gifts. They got their wish… and more than they bargained for.

"I have no interest in creating an army, Jean-Paul," Scott assured him, "but Magneto needs to be stopped, for everyone's sake."

"I'm a bit new around here," Jean-Paul glanced around at everyone, "and I heard of Magneto and his Brotherhood while serving under Department H, but I've been getting the feeling you all know this guy on a bit more of a… personal basis."

"Yes," Xavier said sadly, Scott already knowing the story he was about to tell. "Magneto, or Erik as I knew him long ago, was a friend of mine. He helped me to found this school and to build the Cerebro device which allows me to track mutants when they use their powers."

"Okay," Jean-Paul didn't bat an eye at the revelation that Xavier was once friends with a known terrorist, but then what really could phase a man who was once part of a Canadian government weapons program that spawned the likes of Wolverine? "So what happened?"

"We had a disagreement of philosophy," was the Professor's simplest answer. "We both knew we would see the day when mutant-kind would become known to the world, I believe that when this happens we can live along side humans, peacefully co-exist. Erik… he has seen the evils that man can do to others different from themselves and believes that this will be their only response."

"He's beating them to the punch then," the mutant nodded his understanding, "retaliating before he's even been attacked."

"JP," Scott wasn't surprised at the man's reluctance, "I know you came South to get away from all this and after what you've been through, no one would think less of you for not wanting to get involved."

"I never said anything about not wanting to get involved," he gave a bit of a chuckle, "I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page."

Scott was a little thrown, "So you'll join?"

"Men like Magneto are exactly why Department H decided to go the way of the Weapon X program," his eyes flitted over to Wolverine who visibly snarled at the mention of that little footnote in the feral mutant's long history, "and why I had to get Jeanne-Marie away from them before they did any more damage. I'm in, just as long as we don't lose sight of what we're fighting for here."

"I won't," Scott nodded to the older man.

"Well," Bobby piped up, "I'm still in."

Logan gave out a snort, "Sure you can handle it, Iceboy?"

"Ice_man_," he corrected him, "and yeah. If not, I can always back out, right?"

"Of course," Scott quickly assured him.

"Then it's settled," Bobby clapped his hands together, "when do we start?"

Scott looked around at the group assembled, part of him wondering if this was indeed the right thing to do. But not fighting back at all would be just as bad as Magneto would carry on completely unchecked. Someone had to stand up for mutants and equality, not supremacy.

"First thing in the morning, at breakfast" he decided the sooner the better, "we'll talk and decide how best to start, because from here on out… this is going to be an uphill battle."

* * *

**1X00 – The X-Men – Act II**

The motley looking group sat in the far corner of the diner so they could view all exits. Pietro and Dom had their backs to the crowd but with Quicksilver's speed and Avalanche's thick skin they were more apt to take on any surprises. Rogue sat in the far back corner where the waitress, or any random person, couldn't accidentally brush against her. It wasn't a likely occurrence, but she would rather be safe than sorry.

Wearing a pair of lace gloves which were cut mid-finger, she ate her breakfast with maximum dexterity but minimal risk to those around her. Listening intently to Pietro go over what they knew, she squashed some eggs onto her fork. "We might try a day-time grab."

"Oh?" he looked up at her.

"Yeah," she said, food stuck half way to her mouth, "if Donovan is to be believed, they changed the security after our second heist. I won't be able to steal the codes from a director or section chief. Only the security chief on duty has access to what we want, and unlike the last place, this is private, not government subsidized. They have decent perimeter security, electric grids on the entry points, you name it. Ain't gonna be a cake walk like the last place."

"You know," St John interrupted, "as you're the only one here who's actually been in a cake walk, we can only take your word for that."

Rogue looked over at her friend and tried to hide the bemusement on her face, "You walk around in a circle… literally."

"Daylight is riskier," Pietro said thoughtfully, "they'll still be looking for us and I'd prefer to avoid dealing with idiotic bystanders."

"They'll be expecting us to attempt after-hours," Dom pointed out.

"I can absorb some guards before hand," she offered after downing a fork of ketchup dripping hash browns, "but they get one whiff of me information gathering and they'll go into lockdown."

"We don't have a deadline, exactly," Pietro tapped his finger on the table, a little faster than would be considered normal but thankfully no one was in a position to see it but them, "however, as far as Magneto's concerned, it's always the sooner the better."

"But is there cake involved?" Pyro asked in all seriousness.

"Yes," Rogue answered, attempting not to laugh.

"We start with surveillance," Pietro came to a decision, "find out for ourselves what kind of security is involved, then we can determine the best course of action. And before you ask," Pietro looked at Pyro, "no, you do not walk a cake. You walk around in a circle to music and when it stops, if you happen to be on a marked spot, you win a cake."

Pyro seemed to think about that for a second, "Americans are weird."

…

"Alright," Scott started tapping at the laptop to bring up the projector in the conference room, "I figure first thing we should do is let you know what you'll be going up against."

The new team sat around the desk with their breakfast plates, they didn't really have extra time before they had to go teach classes. Storm, as she already had up close experience with the Brotherhood, was off doing her headmistress duties. Logan had come to help fill in any details Scott missed.

"It's unlikely we'll be going up against Magneto himself any time soon," he brought up an image of the man from a few years ago, "he usually sends his Acolytes on missions, rarely himself. He also knows how to keep himself hidden from Cerebro."

"Brotherhood, Acolytes," Bobby said between gulps of a heavily laden plate, "what's with the funny names? I mean, isn't that one chick with the, ah," he pointed vaguely to his hair, "white streak. She's a… um… a girl?"

"Brotherhood of Mutants is just a name," Scott shrugged as Jean rolled her eyes at the Iceman, "it's what Magneto started to call this loose coalition of mutants around the world who support his cause. His Acolytes are a core group who do most of his dirty work."

"Acolyte," Jean-Paul tossed the word out, "denotes some kind of religious fervor, is that the type of people we're looking at?"

"A few," he thought back to the various Acolytes he had the 'pleasure' of making acquaintances with, "but no, most Acolytes are those simply more willing and able to do the fighting."

"Some just like the chance for violence," Logan said distastefully over his glass of funky looking homemade breakfast shake with what looked like a raw egg floating on the bottom.

"Yeah, that brings me to Victor Creed," Scott hit the slideshow to the next image, a black and white surveillance camera of a man with shaggy hair, bloody bodies laying around him, "code name Sabretooth, Magneto's head enforcer. He has a healing factor not unlike Logan's and his fingers turn into sharp, animal-like claws, his teeth get pointy too."

"Creed," Jean-Paul was sipping at his orange juice, "why does that name sound familiar?"

"Victor and I were part of Department H," Logan said the words sourly, "long before it was Department H and you were even born," Logan growled, sniffing the air. "He's brutal, strong, and as hard to kill as I am. JP, your invulnerability will give you an edge, but the rest of you should not attempt to take him on single handedly. If I'm around, leave him to me."

"Noted," Bobby agreed whole heartedly.

"Moving on," Scott flicked to the next image which was a collage, "Magneto's other head enforcer is a woman named Raven Darkholme, code name Mystique. She's a shape shifter."

"Molecular? Metamorphic?" Jean-Paul asked, "Illusionary?"

"She's naturally blue," Jean spoke up, "and scaly. I saw her shift once, all those scales flipped around and rearranged themselves, even forming clothing."

"So some kind of metamorphosis then?" Jean-Paul mused.

"That is a good enough guess," Scott was inclined to accept the science teacher's take on the subject. "What we do know is that while Sabretooth is vicious, Mystique is downright cold blooded."

"Creed will play with you," Logan butted in, "like a cat with a mouse, and it will give you an opportunity to get away. Mystique won't give you that chance, if she wants you dead, she'll go right for the kill."

Bobby looked a little green at that statement, Jean-Paul didn't seem bothered, but Jean had to relive the memory.

"Since she can look like any one of us," Scott continued, "if we know we're going up against her, you have to be vigilant. She can't change her unique scent so Logan has an advantage, and Jean, like that time at the Pentagon, a simple surface scan will alert you to her presence."

"Right," Jean nodded, taking a breath.

"What happened at the Pentagon?" Jean-Paul asked.

Scott met Jean's eyes and she gave him a nod that it was okay, he could tell the story, "Professor Xavier was meeting with some high level officials in the military regarding mutants and Magneto. This was several years ago, when we still students. Jean and I went with the Professor as his 'star pupils'. Mystique was there and we accidently blew a cover she had going. A fight broke out, this was also the first time we ran into Rogue who managed to absorb the Professor and I," he winced at the memory. "Jean seriously stunned Mystique with a telekinetic burst before she had a chance to kill either of us. Rogue got Mystique away and the two managed to escape once Mystique recovered."

"Go Jean," Bobby said appreciatively.

"It was reactive," the red head admitted, "instinctive, really. It was the first time I ever used my telekinesis, didn't even know I was capable until that moment."

"How handy," Bobby grinned.

"Well, for the rest of us," Scott continued, knowing Jean didn't like to dwell too much on what happened that day, "stay alert, look for the little things, word choice, wrong color socks, anything. Shape shifters can rarely get every detail right. Also, staying together in at least groups of two will help."

"Magneto tends to use her for assassin missions or long term covert ops," Logan added, "so odds are we won't deal with her too often, it's the kids that are going to give us the most trouble."

"The kids?" Jean-Paul asked.

"That's what Logan likes to call the Brotherhood's Elite Acolyte Team," he flipped to the next slide, an image taken at distance of a group of four individuals: three me and one woman, "we fought them last night. They perform the missions for Magneto that don't involve extreme stealth or whole-sale slaughter, which he has Mystique and Sabretooth for."

"I see why Logan calls them kids," the Canadian said wryly, all of them younger than himself as he was getting way too close to thirty, though nowhere near the Wolverine's 100-something-ish.

"Don't underestimate them," Logan said pointedly. "They tend not to kill as that means a heavier response by law enforcement, but each of them are capable of it."

"He's right," Scott looked at each one of them through his ruby quartz glasses, "and to start off, we're going to learn how to specifically fight these four."

…

"_The group leader is Pietro Maximoff, code name Quicksilver, he's a speed mutant like you JP."_

"_So I take it you'll want me to handle him then."_

"_Yes, he's fast but not invulnerable, moreso, he has a glass jaw. If you can get a hit in on him, you'll likely take him down."_

"_It's getting that hit in."_

"_Exactly, and frankly, I want us all to get some experience in fighting each Acolyte, we don't know who we'll end up against at any given moment."_

Jean-Paul was running Bobby in circles, literally, whipping up a bit of a wind storm as the Iceman attempted to throw up walls made of ice to stop or capture him, but the quick footed mutant evaded every obstacle.

"Slow down!" Bobby shouted, getting frustrated.

Jean-Paul stopped on a dime in front of the Iceman, "I haven't even broken the sound barrier yet, you got to work on your timing, lead the target."

"I'll show you leading the target!" Bobby shouted as the Canadian rushed off again.

Concentrating very hard, Bobby began to create a relative hedge maze of ice walls at least two feet thick and seven feet tall. While it was impressive, he started to get tired quickly, his breathing becoming heavy.

"Nice," he heard Scott behind him, "though you might want to stick with the simple but effective, you don't want to wear yourself out."

"Yeah," Bobby took a few more breaths, leaning on his knees, "ran out of air moisture too."

"I know," Scott pointed off in the direction of the garden, "you drew moisture from Ororo's plants."

It took a moment for this to click, "I'm a dead man."

"ROBERT DRAKE!" Storm's booming voice could be heard echoing off the stone of the mansion followed by a clap of thunder. The kids who had been watching from the patio quickly scattered.

"Hide me!" he pleaded with terror in his eyes.

"Oh," Scott chuckled, "you're on your own."

…

"_His second in command is code named Rogue, we don't have a given name for her, not sure anyone does."_

"_Isn't she Mystiques daughter?"_

"_Yes, adopted, when she was twelve or thirteen, though it probably wasn't a legal adoption. Anyway, her mutation is in her skin, if she touches you directly three things happen, you pass out as she drains your life force, she gains your memories, and she gains the temporary use of your mutant powers. It's also uncontrollable, she can't turn it off, so you can't even sneak up on her, you touch her, you're absorbed."_

"_Damn."_

"_This is exactly why I also want us to learn how to fight each other's powers, what our weaknesses are, in case they get used against us."_

"I'm not sure about this," Scott frowned as he stood fifty feet from Jean Grey out on the lawn.

"My telepathy doesn't work on Rogue and she's absorbed you before," the red head pointed out, "I want to make sure I can handle it if she does again. I've been successful in testing this."

"I understand that, but," he really didn't like the idea of shooting his optic beam directly at the woman, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not going to hurt me, Scott," she smiled at him, one full of faith, "you could never hurt me, trust me."

And he did trust her, more than he'd ever admit aloud though he didn't have to say such words for her to know them to be true, "Alright, you ready?"

"Ready," she nodded, putting her hands up in front of her, palms out, "my telekinetic push should act like a shield against your concussion blast but give me a five second burst to start."

"Should?" he lifted his eyebrows.

"Will," she corrected and left no room for argument.

"Okay," he lifted his hand to his visor and took a deep breath, "on three… one… two… three."

Turning the control on his visor, the ruby shield moved and his optic blast was set free, straight at the woman in front of him. He counted to five in his head quickly but he could see from the way the red beam became broken and splayed that Jean had succeeded in shielding herself.

He closed the quartz shield and was overjoyed to see Jean standing unhurt, smiling brightly at him as she was pleased with the outcome. Those who had gathered to watch clapped loudly, among them Kitty, Doug, Jubilee and Meg.

"Go Teach!" Jubilee shouted above the others.

…

"_Pietro and Rogue received their combat training under Mystique, along with St John Allderdyce, code name Pyro."_

"_Let me guess, pyrokinetic?" _

"_He can control fire but he can't create it. He has a compact flame thrower on his back he uses as a main ignition source, he also carries several back up lighters."_

"_And he's crazier than an outhouse rat."_

"_That too."_

"_Ew!"_

"Just 'cause I'm a cryokinetic," Bobby was standing in front of a row of Roman Candle fireworks, each one lit at a different time and shooting out the little balls of fire at random intervals, "why do I have to deal with the crazy pyrokinetic?"

"He's crazy, not stupid," Logan shouted at the kid several candles shot off at once, Bobby getting one but missing the other, "don't confuse the two, it makes him very dangerous."

"I only have to ice his flamethrower," Bobby caught another one that shot up from a Candle, "problem solved."

"I thought you graduated, Iceboy," Logan took a gulp of the beer in his hand, "what's the freezing point of gasoline?"

"I dunno," he caught one and lost a second and third, "something like negative hundred, hundred and fifty… oh."

"Oh's right," the short feral man took another sip of his beer, "what's the lowest you've been able to get?"

"So far? Negative seventy-five," Bobby grumbled, "Fahrenheit."

"Not bad," Wolverine admitted, "but not good enough."

"Logan," Summers came up beside him, "you know the Professor does not approve of you drinking in front of the students," he gestured to the crowd of kids who had taken it upon themselves to watch their training sessions for the past three days.

"They're watching their teachers train for what is essentially a war," he gruffed, "and you're worried about a little Canadian brew?"

The Boy Scout looked like he was about to say something then thought better of it. A moment passed and he asked, "How's he doing?"

"Not bad," Logan shrugged, "but I don't think he's taking this seriously enough."

"He's never had to fight the Acolytes," Summers pointed out, "it's hard to gauge how someone will react until they are put in that position."

"True," he glanced down at his beer, still mostly full, and a thought came to mind.

"Hey, Pop Rocks," Logan shouted over at Jubilation Lee, better known as Jubilee or Jubes, "come here a second."

The girl quickly hopped off the stone fence she was perched on and jotted over, "What you need, Wolvie?"

"That scarf," he pointed to the one wrapped decoratively in her hair, "you attached to that at all?"

"Nope," Jubes pulled the yellow bandana from her head and handed it over, "but it's not your color."

He gave her an unamused look and stuffed the end of the fabric down into the bottle and shook it to let the beer soak the rag. He'd prefer something with a higher alcohol content but this would work for what he wanted and not be as dangerous should things go unexpectedly.

"Logan," Summers warned, "you're not doing what I think you're doing, are you?"

"Gotta test the kid's metal," he shrugged and pulled out his lighter, striking it to catch the bandana on fire.

"Woah!" Jubes shouted and backed up.

"Hey, Drake!" Logan shouted for Bobby's attention, "CATCH!"

Bobby turned just in time to see the improvised Molotov Cocktail, his eyes going wide. Summers reached up to touch his visor's controls but Logan grabbed his arm to stop him, giving enough pause for the younger man to react.

The Iceman threw his hands up and just as the bottle burst the shards were captured in an icy ball which fell to the Earth with a dull thud.

"I can't believe you did that," Summers practically shouted at Logan.

"I can," Jubes laughed, grinning ear to ear, "that was cool."

Logan ignored both and addressed Bobby, "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah," he was a tad bit shaken, but understandably so, and Logan had seen far worse reactions for far less trauma.

"Need a change of underwear?" he asked in all seriousness.

"No," Bobby seemed to have to think about that for a second, "no, I'm good."

Logan turned to Scott, "The kid'll do fine."

…

"_The last member is Dominikos Petrakis, code name Avalanche, joined a couple years ago. He can control seismic waves, vibrations, that kind of thing, he's also fairly strong, not super-strong, but he has 'thick skin' and is the muscle of the group."_

"_Is his power touch based?"_

"_He seems to have better control when he can touch whatever it is he's attempting to crumble but we have seen him effect smaller objects by looking at them. Also, he can only affect rock, clay, glass, concrete, similar substances. We've never seen him use his ability on water, plastic or organics."_

"_Then why do we have to worry about him?"_

"_He can and will drop the floor out from under you, trust me on this."_

The team watched as Storm generated winds which lifted her up into the air, the special cape she was wearing creating almost a balloon effect. Beside her, Jean concentrated on her telekinesis and instead of moving an object, she moved herself, gaining altitude.

The four Earth-bound men stared up at them, a mix of envy on their faces.

"You know," Jean-Paul said, "if I run really fast and launch myself, I can fly for a distance."

"That's more like a really long leap," Bobby pointed out.

"It counts," he was adamant.

"Jeanne-Marie was the one born with super strength, right?" Scott asked from the other side of Jean-Paul, referring to JP's twin sister, "She can fly."

"Never let me live it down," he involuntarily smiled at the memory, "teases me about it to no end… well, teased me about it," he frowned, "she hasn't quite been the same lately."

Scott gave him a sympathetic nod as the girls came back down, unable to hide their well deserved smug grins from their faces.

"Ice bridge," Bobby said randomly, "Avalanche drops the floor, I fill it up with ice."

"Good plan," Logan admitted.

"Of course," Bobby was now lost in thought, "the bridge doesn't have to be at ground level… I could raise it and turn it into a slide like I do during our 4th of July parties…" his eyes went a little cross-eyed as his mind working out the math of such a feat.

"Excuse me," a voice said behind them and they turned around to see the thin wisp of a figure that was Katherine Pryde, otherwise known as Kitty, standing with her hands on her hips. "I want in."

"I'm sorry?" Scott blinked, not that anyone would notice behind his visor.

"We all know why you're doing this," she said in her Chicagoan accent, "to fight the Brotherhood and Magneto's Acolytes. I want to help."

"I'm sorry, Kitty," Storm was the first to speak up, "but you're still a student here, you're here to learn, not to be put in harm's way."

"She's right, half-pint," Logan agreed with the headmistress.

"I'm seventeen," Kitty pointed in some random direction, "and in three months I'll be eighteen. I can go down to the recruitment office and join the Marines."

"The Marines?" Logan raised an eyebrow.

"The Navy…" she tried and that earned her a snicker from Jean-Paul, "alright, the Air Force, doesn't matter, I can still apply and try to prove myself. Give me the same chance here?"

"I don't think your parents would approve," Ororo frowned.

"Dad's got his new family he's all tied up in," she tried to say the words like they didn't upset her but everyone knew better, "and mom's off somewhere with her flavor of the month, trust me, they won't care."

"We care," the headmistress walked up and placed her hands on Kitty's shoulders, "about you and your safety."

"And what happens after I graduate?" she asked seriously, "We all know what's coming, Magneto intends to start a war and it's my generation who are going to be the ones fighting it."

"Not if we can help that," Scott assured her.

"But you don't know, do you," she looked past Storm at them, "you don't know if you'll be able to make a difference. _I_ don't know if I'll make a difference, but I want to try."

"It's too dangerous," Scott shook his head.

"The world is a dangerous place," she put her hands on her hips again, "this way I can at least try to do something about it."

The group went silent as they considered her words, knowing she was right, that if they failed then it would fall on the shoulders of those they were teaching.

"Ah, hell, give the pip-squeak a chance," Logan was the first to give in and come to her defense, "we could use someone with her skills on the team."

"She could be useful against Rogue," Jean-Paul offered, "but she'd need a lot of training."

"Training I can do," she piped in, then frowned, "wait, what kind of rogue, are we talking D&D or WoW?"

Scott sighed and rubbed his forehead, "I suppose it would be advantageous of us to have a computer hacker on the team, but," he quickly added before she got too excited, "the Professor has to sign off on this. You're still a student and not quite eighteen yet."

She smiled, "I can live with that."

…

"You really want to do this?" Charles sighed, rubbing his temple after the long impassioned speech the girl had given him about letting her join, the team standing behind her.

"Yes," she held her usual exuberance in check, "I understand it could be dangerous but with my mutation I'm almost as safe as JP with his invulnerability."

"It's not the same thing," the man pointed out.

"I know," she frowned, "but if things get heady, well, it's not like I can get trapped."

"You can if you get knocked out," Scott pointed out.

"And how is that different from the rest of you?" Kitty countered.

"Katherine," Charles interrupted, "you are a student of this school, your parents entrusted me with your care, but," she kept her from speaking before he could finish, "you graduate this year and as you said, you will be eighteen in three months."

There was a pause and Kitty asked, "Is that a yes?"

"It's a tentative yes," he sighed, "as long as you promise not to take any unnecessary risks until you've had some proper self defense training."

The girl's face lit up, "Oh, thank you, Professor!"

"Well," he gave her a smile, "I could hardly say no to you, could I?"

* * *

**1X00 – The X-Men – Act III**

"Don't watch the hand," Logan lightly bopped Kitty on the head, for the umpteenth time, when she failed to block him, "the shoulder and elbow will telegraph the move, give you more time to react."

"Why can't I just phase?" she asked, making a point by turning intangible as soon as he threw his next punch.

"You can't strike back while you're in phase," he crossed his arms, they were the only ones in the gym which had a large clear area where individuals could practice dance or martial arts, "and you can only keep that up for so long before you tire out."

"I'll tire out faster trying to fight you," she frowned, turning solid again.

As soon as she was tangible, Logan struck out and extended his two outer claws, the gap just wide enough to keep from cutting her neck so long as she didn't move. Kitty visibly gulped, knowing that Wolverine had a checkered, dirty past but never having been so aptly reminded of it. She wanted to go intangible but at the same time was too scared to.

"Rogue's power is touch based, she's highly skilled at mixed martial arts so she can get inside anyone's defense," he talked as if he wasn't holding her hostage, "Mystique taught her and Raven's an even better fighter and won't give you a chance to turn intangible. Creed, he'll just keep coming after you until he rips your throat out and trust me, he'll wait for you to tire, it'll make the kill that much sweeter to him."

"Point taken," she almost winced at her lame pun.

Wolverine retracted his claws and looked at her thoughtfully, "You can use your mutation to your advantage, turning it off and on during a fight in order to dodge and to get into a position to strike, but none of that will do a lick of good if you can't get at least the basics."

"Right," Kitty nodded as a way to distract herself from the headiness of the situation, "can't get Precise Shot without first getting Point Blank Shot, and until then the negative four penalty just isn't worth it."

He looked at her a bit dumbly, "Some days I swear you and Doug just make this stuff up."

Giggling a little, she felt a little better about the situation. This is what she wanted, to learn how to fight and be part of the team, she should have expected not to level up so soon.

"And that makes her immune to telepathy?" she heard JP's voice and turned to see him enter along with Jean.

"For the most part, yes," the red head nodded as they headed over to where they practicing, "Rogue's mind is so loud with the voices of everyone she's ever absorbed, it's a literal headache for any kind of telepath to wade through, like trying to pinpoint a single voice in a sports stadium after a goal is scored."

"I've seen telepaths become overcome in situations like that," he said thoughtfully, Logan getting Kitty attention to start back up with the dodging lessons, "how does she cope?"

"I guess she has to," Jean shrugged, "but we have seen her struggle, when she's absorbed more than one mutant at a time. You should have seen her after she drained Scott and the Professor, she looked like she was going to pass out. It's amazing she managed to get Mystique away after I… stunned her."

"Probably the adrenaline rush of seeing her mother attacked," the science teacher offered up and Kitty was once again bopped upside the head by her defense trainer.

"Word is," Logan butted into the conversation, giving her a second to breathe, "she's never absorbed more than three mutants at a single time, don't know if that's a physical limit or a preference, but she's more inclined to knock you out with a fist to the face than with her mutation."

"But she's absorbed you, like, fifteen times," Kitty couldn't help point out, earning her a glare from the feral man.

"Twelve," he grumbled, "and trust me, she's tried to K.O. me without using her mutation. She's good, but she ain't that good." He brought his fists back up and Kitty sighed, getting back into position to dodge.

The group got a little chuckle out of that, then JP asked, "If she absorbs memories, then what's stopped her from just waltzing into this place, surely she must have all the codes, layouts, everything needed for recon. If anything, she must have plenty of blackmail fodder."

"Dunno," Logan shrugged, Kitty managing to block him this time.

"We've asked ourselves that question before," Jean explained, "your guess is as good as ours."

"You also said that the speed mutant, Quicksilver," JP asked as no one else had anything to add to the conversation about Rogue, "he's immune too?"

"Well, they all have anti-telepath training," she frowned, "but as for Quicksilver, his mind works differently than you and I, his thought processes are sped up. I don't know how he sees the world but I imagine it's in slowmo. Since his psyche runs so fast, it makes it very difficult to affect him telepathically, but not completely impossible."

"So, his speed is perception based then," JP nodded, getting that look in his eye that he got when he was teaching class, trying best to explain a large equation.

"Perception based?" Kitty asked as Logan gave her another break after tapping her chin.

"Yes, he runs fast because, to him, it's a normal speed," JP explained, still sussing out the science in his head. "However, if he doesn't have invulnerability or a healing factor then he'll never be able to get past Mach Two, his body wouldn't be able to handle it."

"Because the faster he goes," Kitty piped up when she realized she understood what he was saying, "the greater the pressure wave he'll generate and, without invulnerability, a healing factor, or a pressurized vehicle, it would crush his body and internal organs as if he was deep sea diving."

"Well," he smiled at her, "and here I thought you were sleeping through my physics class."

"Oh," her face lit up, "does that mean you'll bump up my grade?"

"Ha ha," JP laughed and then with a straight face said, "no."

"Ah, come on," she frowned, "I thought Canadians were supposed to be all nice and personable… and nice."

"How many Canadians do you actually know?" he asked dryly.

"Well, you…" she had to think for a second, "and Logan."

Logan had been standing off to the side with this arms crossed, an annoyed look on his face, growling not too subtly.

Kitty sighed, "Stereotypes suck."

…

Rogue sat watching the video screen which was connected to a high powered sniper scope. Since the facility they wanted to break into had good reason to suspect that they were being watched, the team selected a high-rise building half a mile from the target and elected to do most surveillance from afar.

Dom was studying the geographical layout of the land the building sat on while Pyro was sprawled out on his stomach, scribbling away in a notebook.

The door opened up and they each looked up to see Pietro let himself in, "Any change?"

"No," Rogue shook her head, holding up her own notepad of notes regarding the guard's schedules, "the patrols are random but not without their weak points. I think we can exploit them."

"Good," he took the offered notes and gave them a quick glance, literally, "then we should prep for tomorrow night."

The team looked to each other, it wouldn't be a problem for them, this is what they do.

…

Tapping away on his laptop, Scott sat at his desk in one of the small class rooms in the Institute. The building hadn't meant to be a school, but classic construction methods left most of the rooms large enough to hold a teacher's desk and around ten to fifteen student desks.

When he came to Xavier's, there had been only a handful of students. The class size had grown considerably all things considered, though by most standards Xavier's boasted a very small student body.

"Scott," he recognized the voice instantly as Jean's and lifted his head up to see her walk through the door, "you look busy there."

"This math test won't write itself," he shrugged, sitting back in his chair as Jean took a perch on one of the kid's desks.

"Yes," she nodded sagely with a bit of a twinkle in her eye, "nothing like fretting over two trains leaving the station at the same time to make the kids feel like typical, everyday teens."

"Something like that," he chuckled softly.

"I came to tell you that I've been taking a few extra sessions using Cerebro," Jean was already a high level telepath but Cerebro would increase her abilities ten-fold, allowing her to search out the world for the tell-tale signatures of a mutant's powers as they were often psionically or energy based, "and I've enlisted Betsy to help, she needs the practice anyway. Between us we've noticed Quicksilver and Pryo have been hanging around Bridgeport, Connecticut, for the past two days. Though since Quicksilver is always using his speed to run and Pyro is, well, fire-happy, it may not be related to the break-ins."

"That's good work, the both of you," he smiled at her initiative, "I'm not sure we're ready to take them on yet, but I'll talk to Agent Duncan, see if there is connection between Bridgeport, the Brotherhood and Bastion Industries."

"As far as I could check they have no offices there," she offered, "but the Acolyte's first target was a military warehouse so who knows."

"Exactly," he nodded, the air going sullen between them.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

He glanced out the window where some of the youngest ones were having a snowball fight in September thanks to Bobby, "You think we're doing the right thing?"

"I wouldn't have joined your team if I thought otherwise," her normal dazzling smile fell a few notches, "are you having second thoughts?"

"No, I…" he adjusted his ruby specs as he tried to put a voice to what he was feeling, "I still believe we need to meet Magneto head on and I know it was my idea, but… when did this become _my_ team?"

Jean paused for a moment, "I don't remember anyone contesting it, not even Logan."

"Logan," he said the word with more than a tinge of annoyance, "he's not a team player, but he still has more experience in this stuff than me, Ororo and JP as well, they're more qualified to run the team."

"Hhhhmmmm, let's see," she got that thoughtful look on her face, adjusting herself on the desk, leaning slightly forward, "Logan isn't a team player, as you said, and JP is a soldier. Both know you have more experience with dealing with Magneto and the Brotherhood, they will follow your lead as long as you don't screw up," she gave him a wink, "no pressure."

"That's… comforting," he said dryly, "thank you."

"They're not looking for you to fail," she soothed, "they've been through hell and back in their own ways, that makes them wary, but you have their trust. Well, definitely JP's… Logan's motivations are questionable even on a good day… but he trusts the Professor's judgment," she let him think about that for a moment before continuing, "as for 'Ro, she's a strong leader, and a survivor, but she's needed here, she keeps this school running which is no easy feat."

He listened to her words but he couldn't help thinking, "So I get the job by default?"

"No," she said softly, "you get it because you're the right man for the job."

…

The following afternoon at lunchtime, the teachers were sitting at their normal table, sans Scott who had a phone call to make and Logan who wasn't actually part of the teaching staff and therefore ate when he pleased, wherever he could get away with sneaking a beer.

"So, I was thinking," Kitty invited herself to the table, scooching between JP and Jean, "we should all have code names."

"Code names?" JP asked warily.

"Yeah," she said between shoveling mouthfuls of her salad, "I mean, the Acolyte's all have one, the military and fighter pilots have them, all the super heroes in the movies do too… it's like tradition."

"Right," Jean scratched at her forehead, "well, we are not Acolytes nor are we super heroes."

"But we are super heroes, sorta," Kitty reasoned, "we're using our powers to fight evil."

"Oh, lord," Betsy Braddock spoke out in her London accent, "I think our little Kitty here has confused real life with one of her computer games."

"Am not," Kitty frowned at the purple haired English teacher, "I know the difference between the two, but seriously, how can you not make the parallels?"

"Well, if we're gonna be super heroes," Bobby held his chin in his hand, tapping one finger thoughtfully, "I want a better origin story. Something with a childhood nemesis… and I want to have been dropped in a vat of something… yeah, or maybe part of some scientist's diabolical experiment… nah, sounds too painful, I'll go with a vat."

"Fine," the intangible girl frowned, "make fun of me."

"No one is making fun of you," Ororo spoke softly to Kitty.

"Actually, I was…" Bobby started to say but a look from the headmistress sent him cowering, "and it was wrong of me to do so."

"Yes it was," she replied sternly before turning back to Kitty. "Heroic sounding nicknames are not uncommon amongst our kind, but these are usually given to us, not asked for."

Kitty thought about this for a moment, "I guess you're right."

"Yeah," Bobby started talking, probably thinking he was helping, "you know, Scott was the first one to call me Iceman, course, I was trying into turn him into a popsicle at the time," he suddenly sat up straight as a thought occurred to him, "I had the perfect chance to create a comic-book worthy nemesis and I let it slip by, darn it!"

Everyone stared at the Iceman and collectively shook their heads, but it was JP who said, "Well, before anyone gets any ideas about 'Speedy Gonzales' jokes, I was given a call sign when I was attached to Department H, you can call me Northstar if JP isn't fancy enough for you."

"Northstar," Kitty smiled as everyone thought about it, "that's cool, I like it."

"Well, personally," Jean chimed in once the murmurs died down, "I'm sick and tired of being called Red. That's not a name, it's a color."

"Here, here," Betsy defended Jean's rant, "and while Violet is a legitimate name, it is rather unimaginative."

"Exactly, Betsy," Jean nodded to her, "we have real names, why can't people use them?"

"What now?" Scott said as he joined the table, sitting down with a light plate, the lunch hour almost over.

"We're talking about nicknames," Bobby piped in, "who gave you yours, Cyclops?"

"That would be Hank McCoy," Scott gathered up his sandwich, "when he created the visor for me to use to control my ability. He apologized, said he was afraid it made me look like a Cyclops. Name stuck."

"You do realize that in mythology," Betsy said lightly, "the Cyclops, though master blacksmiths, were often portrayed as cruel and brutish."

Scott thought about this for a moment as he chewed on a bite of his sandwich, "Well," he said once he swallowed, adjusting his glasses, "beats being called four-eyes."

"Isn't that what Logan calls you?" JP asked from the other end of the table.

"Every chance he gets," the team leader frowned, "that and Boy Scout."

"The Acolytes call you Boy Scout too, right?" Bobby asked and all Scott could do was frown.

"Logan calls me half-pint," Kitty also frowned, "no way that's gonna be my code name."

"I'm sure we'll find something fitting for you," Ororo assured her.

"Yeah," she tapped her fork against her salad bowl for a second then leaned forward so she could look down at Scott properly, "hey, boss, what about a team name?"

"Team name?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Yeah, we have to have a team name," she quickly added, "every military group has a name or mascot, even police and fire stations, heck, we're a school, why don't we have a school mascot?"

"She has a point there," Bobby defended her.

"If the Brotherhood have the Acolytes," Kitty continued, "then who are we?"

"I never… really thought about it," Scott frowned and looked to the rest of them for help.

"We could be the mutant A-Team," Bobby suggested and everyone groaned, even Storm.

"I'm pretty sure that's copy-righted," JP quickly took all the wind out of Bobby's sail.

"Ooo! I know," Kitty sat up straight, "this is the Xavier Institute, right, so we can be X-Men."

The table sat stunned for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Kitty," Jean was the first to speak, "but that's a horrible name."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed, "I mean… X… the first thing that is going to pop into people's mind is X-Rated."

Betsy laughed, "Maybe into the mind of a twenty-two year old male."

"Hey," he pointed to himself, "I can't change what I am… until my next birthday that is."

Before that conversation could spiral out of control, JP said, "It's also a bit sexist, there are women on this team."

"But X-Person does sound X-Rated," Kitty argued, "and it's like G-Man for the FBI, which doesn't make sense, shouldn't it be F-Man?" she blinked, "Wow, that sounds so wrong."

"It stands for Government Man," Storm informed her.

"Speaking of G-Men," Scott interrupted, "I spoke with Agent Duncan, he's looking into Bridgeport for us. Seeing about any recent Brotherhood activity in the area, it could just be where the team is holed up right now."

"That's not far from here," JP pointed out, "should we check it out?"

"No," Scott shook his head, "if this is one of their bases then we can't hope to simply stumble over it, and if we did, they'd probably hurt us more than we'd hurt them. If Duncan can give us a target or a search grid then we'll go, recon first, then make an organized plan before we attempt to contain them."

"Right," JP nodded, "good call."

"So…" Kitty snuck back into the conversation, "X-Men… what you think?"

There were collective groans from the group who proceeded to get up from the table, leaving only Scott who was attempting to finish his lunch.

"I take that as a maybe?"

…

"Hey, Rogue," Pyro called out across the room at the woman who was leaning against the table, discussing with Pietro and Dom the layout of the facility they were about to rob, "spot me will ya?"

"Kay," she walked over and Pyro turned his back to her so she could see the fuel compartments and the complicated valve system which were literally sewn into the red colored shirt. He heard her tap against the gauges and give something a little tug. "Good to go, though you're running low on ethanol."

He grinned, grabbing his modified fireman's jacket, "I was in a blue mood yesterday."

Rogue shook her head and was distracted by Pietro who grabed his own silver jacket from over a folding chair as he said, "Pyro, do remember that burning the place down is contingency plan _F _and we have to go through A to E first."

"Yeah, yeah," he shrugged the coat on, "Plan E is the one where we get more Ethanol, right?"

…

"Okay, _Okay_," Kitty spoke with an echo, "this _this_ is _is _weird _weird_."

"_You don't have to talk out loud for the mind link to work," _she heard Jean's voice in her head, the woman standing twenty feet across the room from her, "_all you have to do is trigger the same emotional response you would as if you were to speak and that will send the thought across the link."_

"Does _does_ this _this,_" JP cleared his throat and tried again, "_does this include all thoughts?_"

"_No,_" the red head informed him, "_only those with the speech trigger, though this will bring new meaning to the phrase 'think before you speak'._"

"_What's the range?_" Bobby asked, his mouth moving like he was trying to speak, frowning at the action.

"_Not sure_," Jean shrugged, "_I've sent and received telepathic messages from as far as Harry's Hideaway, but not tried to sustain an actual communications link between more than two people._"

"So _so…_ weird _weird_," Kitty giggled.

Scott, who had been standing off to the side on his phone, hung up and approached the group, "Sorry, that was Agent Duncan."

"What did he have to say?" Jean asked, breaking off the telepathic link, there was really no point in using it when they were all standing there.

"The Brotherhood doesn't have any long-term safe houses in Bridgeport that the government knows of," he said, then added, "but, there is a rather large facility for Master Technologies and Moldings."

"And we care about them why?" JP joined the others in gathering around their leader.

"Duncan says that Bastion Industries is subsidized by M-TAM," Scott answered, "Bastion is a research firm, M-TAM deals with practical applications."

"So whatever the geeks at Bastion have been working on," Kitty piped in, "M-TAM would have the prototypes."

"Exactly," he nodded to her.

"Sounds like a prime target for the Acolytes," JP added.

Scott gave them a smile, "What do you say team, up for a little recon?"

…

The goal was blitzkrieg, or alternatively, shock and awe.

M-TAM's facility sat inside an industrial complex, a regular fortress with a solid gate, two guards at the entrance and a dozen on patrol. There was also a team of men on the video cameras which were pointed all over the guard house. No way would they would be able to sneak in without setting off the alarms… so they decided to set the alarms off on their own terms.

Quicksilver quickly knocked out the front gate guards but he wouldn't be able to open the gate without someone authorizing access from the inside. Pyro created an eight foot tall _Stay-Puft_ Marshmallow man and had him attack the loading dock gate which was just as well guarded. Avalanche set off a seismic wave that cracked the thick concrete wall on the opposite side, guards running to cover the area as an opening had started to form**. **There was also an unfortunate after-affect of random sink holes forming on both sides of the wall, one of the reasons collapsing the wall was not an option.

While everyone was sufficiently distracted, a lone figure slipped over one of the least guarded walls, a pair of pliers taking care of the razor wires. Glancing around, Rogue hoped that no one was noticing her as they had bigger issues to deal with.

Heading across an open area, she stopped in front of the rear entrance, a card reader and keypad barring her entry.

"Halt," a voice said from behind and she allowed herself a little grin before slowly turning around to face two guards, weapons drawn, "what the hell is going here?"

"Don't worry," she smiled, "just a little B&E."

Striking quickly, her right arm knocked away the guard's gun while her left leg kicked out at the other man. A few more kicks, some punching, and one of the guards was slammed against the wall, crumbling to the wall in a heap.

Rogue kicked out and struck the knee of the other guard and he started to fall to the ground. Rogue grabbed him by his combat vest and hauled him to her, planting one right on his lips. Surprised, the man didn't do much in the short time before her powers kicked in and she pulled his mind into hers.

"Thanks, sugar," she grinned as she let him fall to the ground, pulling his access badge from his belt as he went.

Turning back to the door she used her knew found knowledge to punch in the right code and slip inside. Now all she needed was to find a security console and she could open the gates. Thanks to her new friend Ken she knew exactly where to get to one without running across any patrols. How very helpful of him.

…

"You think we should have waited for Logan?" Kitty asked from her seat in the back of Bobby's Ford Escape SUV, wedged between Jean and JP, her laptop on her knees, typing away at some not-strictly-speaking-legal programs.

"I tried his phone," Scott informed from the passenger's seat, "didn't answer."

"Probably in a bar," Bobby said in a tone somewhere between envy and… envy.

"This is just a recon mission," the team leader ignored him, "Jean, I want you scanning, if the Brotherhood are watching this place then they can't be too far. JP, if the Acolytes are planning a heist, let's see if we can figure out how they might do it. Kitty, you got that sniffer program up and running?"

"Yep," she continued to tap away, "scanning all radio frequencies and wireless hotspots, looking for key words and phrases."

"You build that program yourself?" JP asked, looking slightly over her shoulder at the complicated system.

"Well…" Kitty giggled nervously, "I kinda… acquired the program from the NSA, they use it to track terrorist cells. I tweaked it, just a bit."

"Does the Professor know what you've been doing?" he asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Helping Doug with his mutation," she said very seriously, "I mean, he'll never know the limits of his super-decoding ability if he doesn't give himself challenges."

"That sounds awfully rehearsed," JP looked her suspiciously, that grin still attempting to immerge.

The rest of the team chuckled because that was pretty much the truth of the matter.

A sharp intake of breath from Jean got their attention, "I can sense them, they're close."

Scott leaned forward and fiddled with the GPS, "How close? We're almost to M-TAM, it's just around the corner."

The road buckled and Bobby swerved to avoid the sudden sink hole that materialized, driving up onto the sidewalk. Kitty slammed into JP, her laptop crashing down onto their feet which thankfully broke its fall. Hitting the breaks, the Escape came to a halt mere inches in front of another small sinkhole.

"What the…?" Bobby muttered as they all piled out of the SUV, the head of a fiery Stay-Puft Man visible above the side wall of M-TAM.

"There," Jean pointed and they all looked to see the front gate opening, a silver flash of light disappearing inside.

"What was that about not hoping to trip over them?" Bobby asked Scott who had pulled his visor from his pocket, holding it in his hand as he debated what to do next.

"We do this," JP said evenly, "we'll be going in half-blind."

"But we'll have surprise on our side," Jean echoed his own thoughts. "They've never seen you, Bobby or Kitty before."

"What you say, boss?" of all of them, Kitty looked the most nervous, as well as excited. "Get me near a computer and I can find out what they've been after."

Scott took in everyone's faces, varying degrees of willingness with only a tinge of visible fear. Glancing back at the carnage that was being wrought, he knew in an instance what he had to do. "Alright, here's the plan."

* * *

**1X00 – The X-Men – Act IV**

Humming the theme song to _Ghostbusters_, Pyro was quite content. Rogue had opened up the gate so Quicksilver could get in, zipping past the armed guards. All Pyro had to do was keep the guards busy which he did so by walking Stay-Puft around the wall and through the front gate, right up to the building, scorching the concrete and marring the glass.

Then a most peculiar thing happened.

The air got colder to the point that Pyro could see his breath, ice crystals forming around the monster's extremities until the flames were engulfed by a thin layer of ice. Had he tried, Pyro might have been able to salvage his Marshmallow man but he was much too curious as to what was happening to do anything other than stare.

When his fire creature was gone, Pyro glanced around and noticed the man standing just inside the gate, a few years younger than himself, hand raised in the air. "You do that?"

"Well, yeah," the kid almost shrugged, giving him a wary look.

"Cyrokinetic, huh?" was the only logical conclusion, any other explanation for the brown haired man's ability to ice over his fire monster would be entirely too complicated, "So, what, you're creating ice out of the air moisture?"

"Yeah," the ice mutant furrowed his brow in confusion at Pyro's polite conversation, his eyes darting side to side as if he was expecting to be attacked, "pretty much."

Pyro sighed and shook his head lightly, "That's so not fair."

Clicking at his control pad, a streak of green flame shot out from the nozzle of his flamethrower and kept pumping fuel into a regular menagerie of mythical beasts of two sphinx, a Cerberus, a dragon, a couple of centaurs, and at least one drop bear…

…

Quicksilver stood over the computer, waiting impatiently for the system to power down so that he could remove the core processor and lattice system. Normally this would be a job for Pyro but his fire skills were needed distracting the guards outside. Tapping his finger impatiently, he almost missed hearing the whistling of wind which tended to accompany someone running father than technically humanly possible.

Ducking at super-speed, he barely got out of the way of a punch and tackle that came from behind. Turning around he faced his attacker, a slightly older man with jet black hair. "Who the hell are you?"

"Oh," he said with a bit of a Canadian tilt to his pronunciation, "just a concerned citizen."

To anyone watching from the outside it would have been a blur that passed in mere seconds, but if the surveillance footage was slowed down, they would see the dark haired man attack Quicksilver at only half the speed he was capable of.

Later, Quicksilver would realize that the man was going slower because he didn't want to do Pietro any real harm, but when the man's elbow crashed across his face, it was all over. Darkness engulfed him and he crumbled to the floor.

…

"_Quicksilver is down,_" Scott heard JP say over Jean's communications link as Scott snuck around some bushes, literally, looking for a rematch with Avalanche, "_he was trying to steal a computer-thingy._"

"_Where?_" Kitty's voice asked, _"It must be on its own system because I'm not finding anything on the central mainframe._"

"_Third floor,_" JP answered, "_Room 312._"

"_On my way," _the girl said and Scott finally found the geokinetic.

The mutant was down on one knee, sending another shock wave towards the wall, part of it breaking off and crumbling to the ground. Another small sink hole opened up and Avalanche 'let off the gas' as it were.

"This time," Scott said as his hand went to his visor, "I'm not turning my back on you."

…

Jean ran through the entrance stopping short at the guards who were starting to take aim at the now distracted Pyro and Bobby. Not wanting anyone to get hurt, least of all her friend, she focused very hard on the minds of the guards…

_You don't want to fight both of them at once, you want to wait and see what happens…_

The best way to manipulate a mind was not to give them an order that went directly against what was already on their mind, simply nudge them in a direction that would beneficial to all involved.

…

Avalanche was debating whether or not he should risk taking the whole wall down when an all too familiar red beam stuck out at him, knocking him sideways to fly across the ground.

With a grunt, he got back to his feet, tapping his communications unit, "Boy Scout is here, keep an eye out for Claws and the Witch."

"Copy that," Rogue's voice came over the line, "Quicksilver?"

The Boy Scout shot another blast but this time the Greek dodged, sending out a shock wave which buckled the Earth. The optic mutant jumped up and rolled over the wave to Avalanche's annoyance.

"Quicksilver, come in," Rogue said again. "Pryo?"

"A bit busy here," the fire mutant's voice said, "making a new friend."

…

"Stairs… stairs…" Kitty mumbled as she turned a corner, the elevators having gone into lock down.

Finding them, she jogged towards the door only to have it open before she even got twenty feet from it. A woman, a little taller than her with a white streak in her auburn hair and a hard drive in her hand skidded to a stop, giving Kitty a rather befuddled look.

"Yah not with M-TAM," she said, Scott having not been kidding about the woman's Southern drawl.

"Ah, no," Kitty said nervously, but smiling, she smiled a lot when she was really nervous. "I'm here to stop you."

"Seriously?" the woman started to step forward, frowning as she placed a hard drive in her jacket, "What are you, ninety pounds soaking wet?"

"Hey," Kitty pouted, putting her hands on her hips, "I eat, I try to put on weight, honest!"

"Whatever," Rogue was completely disinterested, lifting her hands into a loose combat stance, "well, this is gonna hurt you more… it's just gonna hurt you."

Rogue threw a decently powerful flat palm strike at her face, and it passed right through, the Southern mutant almost tripping up when she realized she wasn't connecting to anything. Managing to stay on her feet, Rogue passed her hand through Kitty's head a few times like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Drawing her hand back, she frowned, "Now that's just cheating."

…

Bobby was running for his life, literally, making it out to the middle of the street as he was chased by a green fire-breathing dragon, among other things. He turned just in time to throw up an ice wall which the dragon slammed into, loosing most of its substance and reforming into two smaller eagles.

"It's freaking chemistry, the rapid oxidation of molecules until they combust…" he could hear Pyro shouting.

The intensity of the heat was causing the ice to melt faster than usual, the wall crackling and crumbling under the pounding of the fiery monsters. At is shattered, Bobby managed to ice a drop bear before being forced to back up again.

"I've met half a dozen mutants who can create fire, but do they really appreciate it?" Pyro kept going on as both classic orange and ethanol blue flames where added to the mix of mythical animals. "Nnnnooooooooooooooo."

This was going to be a long, long, night.

…

"_Kitty_?" JP said as he used some power cords to tie up Quicksilver, he would have preferred zip-ties or actual cuffs but he made do with what he had.

"_Kinda busy,_" her voice sounded nervous, "_found Rogue._"

"_I'll be right there,_" he told her but before he could move she answered him.

"_No, I'm distracting her,_" she said, "_get the computer and get out._"

JP looked back at the mess of wires coming out of the shiny boxes and despite being a science teacher and knowing a fair bit about physics… this was a little out of his league technical wise, "Riiiight_…_"

…

A sink hole started to emerge under his feet and Scott leapt to the edge. Though not as graceful as other more… feral mutants, he did manage to get to edge in time to land half-way out of the hole, quickly scampering up to his feet.

Spotting Avalanche, Scott's hand went to his visor and this time he led his target, which attempted to dodge, knocking the man down, sending him against a nearby lamp post which buckled and fell over.

The optic mutant grimaced, "I wonder where the Professor stands on accidental destruction of public property?"

…

Everyone actually heard what Scott said seemingly to himself but they were a bit too busy to respond. Bobby was still attempting to freeze the various creatures Pyro was throwing at him, building walls as well since apparently the other mutant needed to see his creatures to control them.

Another ice wall crumbled down to reveal three bears, a green papa, a red mama, and a little blue baby bear. Bobby was beginning to understand why everyone thought Pyro had issues with mental stability.

While the bears were having fun trying to burn him to a crisp, Pyro was busy building new creatures to send after him. The baby bear was easily taken out and Bobby dodged as the other two attempted to swipe at him. He was still dodging when a rampant fire weasel jumped out of nowhere and attempted to light his pants on fire. Again, Bobby froze it but in his distraction the papa bear came after him with a big flaming paw…

and then stopped.

Confused, but glad, Bobby glanced up and saw Jean standing off to the side, one hand stretched out while the other had fingers pressed to her temple as she concentrated.

"Hey, Red," Pyro shouted out almost cheerfully and Jean grimaced at the nickname, "long time, no burn. This one with you?"

"Yes," she said through partially clenched teeth.

"Come on, sheila," the Acolyte reached out and literally wrenched control of the bear back, "we've been through this before, you may be a wicked telepath/telekinetic, but you ain't got the training or finesse I do when it comes to fire."

"You're right," Jean took a deep breath, "but I don't have to stop you," she grinned as the fire flickered across her face, "just slow you down long enough for him to."

And that's when it clicked for Bobby. If he wasn't busy dodging, he could be putting his power to good use. He started with freezing the bears then he'd turn his attention to the rest of Pyro's menagerie.

For his part, the fire mutant's face stayed completely blank until he said, "I should have stopped for more ethanol."

…

"Right," Rogue looked down right frustrated, "I'm gonna find someone I can actually hit."

With that the two-toned mutant turned on her heels back towards the stairwell and Kitty suddenly didn't know what to do. She couldn't physically stop the mutant, well, she could try but that would mean going tangible. If she did that, she would likely get either her butt kicked or absorbed, maybe both.

"Hey, wait," she shouted lamely as she ran after the girl.

Rogue went back into the stairwell and Kitty phased through the doors. When she got onto the landing there was no sign of the other mutant. Knowing JP was on the third floor, she started up the stairs, turning back tangible as not to wear herself out. She was halfway up the first set when she got that feeling she was being watched.

Kitty barely had time to turn and Rogue's hands where on her bare arms, draining the life out of her.

…

Jean stumbled, feeling the break of Kitty's consciousness from her own.

"_What happened?_" Scott asked first.

"_It's Kitty,_" she answered back, "_I think Rogue got her_."

"At least s_he won't hurt her_," Scott knew Rogue had plenty of opportunities to kill or at least maim them I the past and never did, "_JP, as soon as you got that computer, find Kitty and get her out._"

"_Almost there_," the speed mutant answered.

…

Playing a hunch that the girl wasn't exactly an experienced fighter, the minute Rogue hit the stairwell she went down instead of the obvious up. The giggly girl didn't even look behind herself as she started up the stairs, major tactical error.

As Kitty, her nickname apparently, passed out, Rogue eased her down afraid the skinny girl would break something if she fell to hard.

Rogue could feel the mutant's powers coursing through her body, but unlike her own which was just as much a part of her as breathing, Kitty's intangibility was like a warm comfy coat… easily malleable but verging on stifling. Ken was still in her head as well, fresh voices always louder and more violent until they found their place in Rogue's schizophrenic hierarchy.

Still, she had practice at dealing with these situations and brought forth Kitty's power, turning herself intangible. Staring at her now translucent hands, she couldn't help the words that came to mind, "So weird…"

Then came the information download, a quick shuffle of a thousand and one memories, none of which she really wanted at this moment but she was curious who this girl was, what she had to do with the Boy Scout and the cyrokinetic giving Pyro fits. One thought floated to the surface above the others, a very recent memory she couldn't ignore.

"Quicksilver," she said, finally discovering why he wasn't answering his communicator.

…

Scott was knocked onto his rear by another buckling of the ground, at least this time there was no basement for him to fall into.

Scrambling back to his feet, he was about to blast Avalanche again when he realized the mutant's attention was no longer on him. Tracking his eye line, Scott saw the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. Before he could even think on how to react to innocent bystanders trying to get in their way, the problem was solved for him.

Avalanche sunk a large hole across the entire length of the road, the cop cars and fire truck skidding to a stop, luckily none ending up going over the edge.

That taken care of, the Greek mutant turned his sights back on Scott who raised his hand to his visor once more.

…

Rogue was outside room 312 and cautiously looked inside to see Quicksilver laying unconscious close to the exit while a dark haired man was much farther into the room, fiddling with the computer processor that her leader was supposed to be stealing. Thanks to Kitty, she knew that the man was named Jean-Paul and he was a speed mutant too, which is how he got the drop on Quicksilver.

First she slipped off her other glove, tucking it into her jacket pocket, then she slunk into the room, hiding behind a desk. Apparently Jean-Paul was ex-Department H, not someone likely to be easily ambushed and all he needed was a sideway glance to see her, thankfully his attention was on the computer. Creeping around the desk she could just… reach… Quicksilver…

"Hey," Jean-Paul said, noticing her just as her hand brushed against her friend's forehead…

and the world… slowed… down… a… single… breath… take… ing… for… ev… er…

Jean-Paul struck out at her but unlike Quicksilver, she couldn't rely on her speed to make up for any lacks in her combat technique. With the world now passing by at a snail's pace she was able to match the man blow for blow but, much like her fights with Wolverine, it was difficult to get a shot in against him. He didn't have a healing factor like her feral frenemy, but he had invulnerability which was worse.

Their arms became locked together, holding onto each other, their stance too precarious to make any fancy footwork possible, her body held too far back to get in a good-night kiss, not that she'd want to what with all the new voices in her head already. That's when Rogue had to make her decision…

Breaking away, she backed off and ran to Quicksilver, grabbing his arm and turning them both intangible before Jean-Paul could catch up to her. Grinning at the man, she started to sink them both through the floor.

…

Jean-Paul watched as Rogue and Quicksilver slipped through the floor using Kitty's power…

After taking the time to finish disconnecting the processor correctly, Jean-Paul quickly traced the path Kitty should have taken to get upstairs, hoping she hadn't deviated. He didn't have to look far as he found her lying peacefully on the stairs as if she was taking a nap.

"_Found Kitty,"_ Jean-Paul lifted the light girl into his arms, _"heading back to the suv."_

…

Stopping on the first floor after sinking through the second, Rogue took a moment to consider all her options.

They were outnumbered by unknown qualities. Avalanche and Boy Scout were evenly matched tonight… Red and a refrigerator where giving Pyro a run for his Australian dollars… Quicksilver was out for another hour, at least… even with her borrowed speed, she couldn't drain every mutant, she was having enough trouble with two mutants and one very confused guard stomping around up there.

Tapping her communicator, she made the best decision possible, not the only choice, but the one that guaranteed that her teammates, her friends, got out of this okay. Phasing off the cables that had Pietro tied up, Rogue hefted the man up over her shoulder, careful not to let his jacket bunch up to reveal any skin.

"Pyro, Avalanche," she had to mentally slow her speaking down but she knew she spoke faster than usual through the comms, "we're cutting our losses, I'm calling a retreat, head to rendezvous point beta and await further instruction."

…

Dodging another sink hole, Scott saw Avalanche say something into his ear piece communicator. Then without so much as a quip, the mutant dropped the biggest sink hole yet, causing Scott to run backwards lest he fall in.

When Scott was able to look away from the ground, he saw Avalanche's shadow disappear down an alley. For a moment he considered giving chase, but the police where cutting through a parking lot to get around the other sink hole and he had his team to think about.

With a slightly annoyed sigh, Scott headed back towards the building.

…

Bobby was taking on another fire dragon while Jean was holding back a gaggle of evil geese who were nipping at her. Between them, Pyro was being fairly well contained, he couldn't make creatures fast enough to really get an edge.

Then Jean pushed out with her telekinesis against Pyro when Bobby wasn't in danger of being burned by uncontrolled fire. The Aussie flew back and tumbled into the grass, many of his animals dissolving into smoke. But he quickly glanced up and wrestled back what was left.

"Alright," he said as he stood up, "let's end this, shall we?"

The Iceman did not like that sound of that…

A solid wall of flame began to form in front of the pyromaniac, the geese and dragon being sucked into it as if it was a void. The temperature of the area began to rise significantly and Bobby fought it with all his strength, starting at the bottom of the wall and working his way up.

Jean came up next to him, her hair frizzing from the sudden humidity and if he wasn't afraid that the wall, which now stretched clear across the street, would set one of the buildings on fire he might have made a joke about it. She was trying to keep the flames from igniting the decorative flora and he kept his focus on cooling the fire.

Then he got that feeling that one gets when they pick up an item they're expecting to be heavy but it's actually really light. The flames dispersed and they stood in front of a half-wall of ice.

"They're retreating," Scott came running up behind them.

"Retreating?" Bobby asked, shattering the wall to see that Pyro had made his exit.

Lights of police cruisers and fire trucks started to come around the corner at the end of the street.

"That could have something to do with it," Jean mused a tad sarcastically.

That's when he noticed JP driving his SUV, Kitty buckled up and passed out in the front passenger seat. "Hey! That's my ride!"

"Yell at me later," JP barked at him as he pulled up beside the three and they piled into the aptly named Escape and JP hit the gas.

"Did you get the computer?" Scott asked as he put his seatbelt on.

"Front floorboard," the speed mutant replied, slamming the SUV around a corner, sending them all smashing into each other. At least JP had the thought to quickly grab Kitty's shoulder to keep her unconscious self from banging against the window.

"Wait," a thought suddenly occurred to Bobby, "does this mean we won?"

* * *

**1X00 – The X-Men – Tag**

Kitty woke up with a hangover, or at least what she figured a hangover would feel like if the movies were be to believed. Head pounding and otherwise groggy, she made out the ceiling of the Institute's Health Center, or med bay as she liked to call it. Seeing as some mutations had a tendency to cause injury, usually unintentionally, the Professor had a fully stocked infirmary complete with medical beds. One of which Kitty was currently resting on.

"It'll wear off in a minute," the gruff voice of Logan said and she turned her head to see him standing next to the bed, arms crossed. "Might want to drink this," he handed over a bottle of Gatorade, "it'll help."

"Right," she muttered, her mouth did seem a bit dry but at least her head was starting to clear. Taking the bottle she popped the cap and took a few swigs.

"You did good out there, half-pint," the Wolverine was still pretty gruff but the words sounded sincere.

Kitty moaned and tried to bury her head in her pillow, if she felt up to phasing she'd have just sunk through the bed, "I got knocked out. I should have known to look behind me…"

"But you didn't," he shrugged, "and now you know for next time."

"If there will even be one," she sighed, putting the drink on the side table and throwing her legs over the edge, "the Professor probably won't let me stay on the team."

"The Professor ain't an idiot, kid," the man lowered his arms in a less combative gesture, probably the closest to a gentle one as he ever got, "you've only had a week of training, against any of the Acolytes you were going to lose unless you got lucky. And so what if you got knocked out in the end, Rogue's knocked me out a few times, don't mean nothing. You stood up to her and made the right call to distract her, that's what matters."

"She got away with a hard drive," Kitty frowned, having mixed emotions from the man's encouraging words.

Logan also frowned, "Didn't know about that, but we got the other thing they wanted, Doug's working on it now. It's more than we've been able to do against them in a long while."

"True, I guess… I should go see if Doug needs help," she hopped off the bed, getting her feet under her, "but you know what, I was right."

"Right about what?" he raised one busy eyebrow at her.

"Canadians are nice," she went to give him a hug but then thought better of it, "thanks for trying to cheer me up."

"It's a pep talk," he countered, "there's a difference."

"Sure there is," she laughed drolly as they headed out of the infirmary.

…

Scott was sitting at the conference table as Bobby recounted to Storm the story of him fighting off crazed fire weasels and story book characters. He was only half listening as Agent Duncan had him on hold.

"Summers," the Fed came back onto the line, "had to pull several IOUs on this one, but some higher ups are starting to ask too many questions."

"I understand," he answered, knowing that the man put his job on the line every time he covered for them. "When we're done looking at this computer, whatever it is, we'll hand it over."

"How long will that be?" was reasonable question.

Scott glanced over at Doug who was busy typing away on a laptop which was connected to the device that Jean-Paul took from M-TAM. "I don't know, but if the Brotherhood is interested in this then it's got to be mutant related, probably something we should know about."

"Well, when you find out," he said dryly, "care to share?"

"Of course," he assured the man.

"Alright then," someone called Duncan's name in the background. "I gotta talk to a geologist about a cover story, I'll keep in touch if anything changes on this end."

"Thank you, Fred," he tried not to sound condescending.

"Yeah, yeah," with that the man hung up.

"Hey," Jean said brightly, "look who's awake. Welcome to the club."

"The club?" Kitty said as she walked into room.

"The Absorbed by Rogue club," she smirked, trying to make the girl feel better about what happened. It was easy to assume the bubbly Kitty would take a perceived failure on her first outing pretty hard.

Kitty moved to sit next to Doug, "And just how many members are in this club?"

Everyone in the room except Doug, Bobby and JP raised their hand, including Storm.

"I kinda feel left out now," Bobby frowned and the rest of the team let out various levels of laughter, even Logan smirked a bit.

"Well, team," Scott addressed them all since everyone was present and accounted for, "considering we weren't looking for a fight, I think you all did really good. Some more practice and we'll really give the Acolytes trouble."

"We kicked their butts," Bobby said gleefully.

"Was that before or after you almost had your pants set on fire by rabid weasels?" JP asked dryly.

Bobby looked like he was going to retort, his jaw worked but his brain couldn't seem to make a connection.

"What the man is saying," Logan rolled his eyes, "is you had the element of surprise, the Acolytes didn't know who you were or what you're capable of."

"They could have fought on," for once Scott was on the same page as the Wolverine, "but it was smarter for them to retreat, this way they can examine what happened and what they're up against. Next time, we won't be so lucky."

"Frak!" Kitty practically shouted and all heads turned towards her. Doug looked at her with an extremely worried expression which was echoed on the girl's face.

"What did you find?" Scott immediately asked.

"This processor," Kitty paused as she formed her words, knowing that at least one of them would yell at her speak English if she said what she really wanted to, "it's the core of a prototype lattice system to hold a unique software program. It's extremely powerful hardware… but not exactly anything new. At least a dozen companies are working on something similar only for more commercial applications."

"Get to the point, sprite," Logan practically barked.

"The point is," she spouted back at him like a typical teenager, "is that it's the software that makes this important to us. Remember my sniffer program? The one that looked for key phrases and stuff to track terrorist cells?" there was a general nod and mummer of yes's around the room. "Well, this program, it's specifically designed to sniff out mutants."

"How?" Jean asked as everyone looked to each other in a mix of confusion, fear, and trepidation.

"It takes the concept of the terrorist tracker and expands on it, like, a thousand fold," and for once they weren't sure if she was exaggerating. "I don't have a full copy of the software on here but from what we have it looks like it doesn't just go after public and government communications and open networks. It is an auto hacking, real time tracking, software that will break into anything, private security, phone lines, hospital and doctor computers, you name it. Then it looks for patterns and specific tell-tale signs of mutations. Physical attributes, extraordinary actions such as cooling temperatures wherever you go," she looked to Bobby, then to JP, "catching a moment where you're so fast the naked eye misses you."

Scott shook his head, "How can it distinguish between mutant and random flukes of nature?"

"That's it though," Kitty chewed on her lip, "while a mutant may activate their power randomly, the simple fact that there is more than one incident of a 'random fluke' is enough to set the system into digging further. That's what is stalling the program right now, getting the A.I. to work. It's either a fault with the software or with the lattice."

"No wonder Magneto wanted it," Storm mused, shaking her head, "this is as much a threat to the Brotherhood as it is to mutants in general. Do we know if this was government sponsored or a private endeavor?"

Bobby was the one to show some naivety, "You don't really think the government would use it against non-Brotherhood mutants, do you?"

"Maybe not at first," JP frowned, "but something like this is a major breach of personal privacy. I'm pretty sure you guys have laws against that here."

"Usually," Jean frowned.

"I've seen more than one government do something stupid when they're afraid," Logan snorted. "We shouldn't let them have this back, how hard would it be to build another?"

All eyes turned back to Kitty who looked to Doug who shrugged, "I can already see the problem with the lattice, I could probably fix it but won't. I'm not sure about the software though, I don't have enough of it to know for sure why it won't work," he then frowned, "trashing Nimrod would slow them down, sure, but I think the Brotherhood has done more damage by stealing the software. It's no good having an A.I. if it has the intelligence of a first grader."

"Nimrod?" Scott asked.

"That's the code name for the lattice," Kitty explained, pointing to the computer they had taken, "they named the A.I. system Sentinel, and once it's online… there's nowhere we can hide where it can't find us."

…

"This is an interesting turn of events," Magneto mused as he slightly paced, hands clasped behind his back. "Charles has gone and put together a team of his own then?"

"Xavier signed off on it," Rogue spoke up as she stood in front of her other three teammates, and as she was giving a report from the information she drained from the one named 'Kitty', she felt she was allowed to speak up when she had something useful to say, "but according to the girl, the Boy Scout is responsible for putting the team together."

"Ah, yes, Summers," he gave a little laugh at an old joke, "that sounds about right."

"They have Nimrod," Mystique spoke up, giving the team a rather disappointed look, "you should have sent me after it."

"Now, now, Mystique," Magneto chided her lightly, "how was any of us to know that Charles was going to grow a backbone?" he stopped his pacing, "in fact, this may work out for the better. Now Charles will see what we're really up against."

A silence fell over the group as he debated with himself and came to a decision.

"We'll let them do whatever they want with Nimrod," he finally said, "and we'll carry on with our plans. You'll simply have to be better prepared for the, ah, Boy Scout troop."

"X-Men," Rogue blurted out as the name rang loudly in her head in Kitty's voice.

Magneto raised a single eyebrow at her, "Excuse me?"

"X-Men," she furrowed her brow as she tried to bring up the full memory surrounding the name but simply kept getting the word echoing through her mind, "they call themselves the X-Men."

* * *

**_X-Men: The Series_**

* * *

**On the next episode of **_**X-Men: The Series…**_

_- "What are we gonna do about Nimrod?" – Wolverine  
- "I gave Agent Duncan my word we'd return it." – Scott_

_- "Magneto is sending us some… assistance." – Quicksilver_

_- "We want to show the government that mutants are not the bad guys. We have to be the first ones to make that move." – Scott_

_- "I'm here as insurance." – Sabretooth  
__- "Your kind of insurance tends to be rather messy." – Avalanche  
__- "Yeah, it is." – Sabretooth__  
_

_- "The government doesn't have to get Sentinel fully up and running to hunt us." – Kitty_

_- "We'll use Nimrod to download the files." – Scott_

_- "Why now? Why go on the offensive? Finally fed up, or do you have an end game?" – Val Cooper_

_- "They have to figure this is an ambush." – Pyro_

_**Episode 1X01 – Sentinel**_

* * *

1X00 – The X-Men  
Written by JayCee's RedGold

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee's RedGold

Executive Producer – JayCee's RedGold  
Co-Producer – Chellerbelle  
Script Consultant - ginchy

"_Color the Walls (Don't Stop)_" by Foster the People  
_"Kill Your Heroes,"_ by AWOLNATION

This is an unofficial fan site. It is not sponsored, licensed, or approved by Marvel Characters, Inc, Marvel Studios, Marvel Entertainment, 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, Fox Broadcasting Company, Ford Motor Company, or any other entities which may receive direction mention.

"X-Men" is a registered trademark of Marvel Characters, Inc.

All original content Copyright © 2012-2013 JayCee and xmenthefanficseries DOT com.  
All trademarks are properties of their respective owners.


	3. 1X01 - Sentinel

**Author's Note: **Thank you again for reading! To answer Anoymous136's question, yes, I will be bringing in a myriad of characters throughout the season which includes, but not limited to: Colossus, Scarlet Witch, Cecilia Reyes, Boom Boom, Cannonball, Sunfire, and, of course, Gambit. As for following any particular story line, you'll see a bit of both, basically, whatever works best for what I need to do.

**Episode #: **1X01  
**Episode Name:** Sentinel

**Summary: **The X-Men must decide what to do about Sentinel and just how far they are willing to cross the line into Brotherhood territory.

* * *

**Previously… on **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**_

—"_Magneto will continue to escalate until he's given the government no choice but to declare war on the Brotherhood." – Storm_

—"_We can't sit idly by when we have a chance to do something." – Scott_

—"_He's wanting you to fight, to be a soldier." – Jean-Paul  
"More like a policeman, or a fireman." – Scott  
"Ain't much of a difference from where I stand." – Jean-Paul_

—"_I want in." – Kitty_

— "_This is the Xavier Institute, right, so we can be X-Men." – Kitty  
"I'm sorry, Kitty, but that's a horrible name." – Jean_

—"_Bastion Industries is subsidized by M-TAM." – Scott_

—"_If the Brotherhood is interested in this then it's got to be mutant related." – Scott_

—"_We're cutting our losses, I'm calling a retreat." – Rogue_

—"_How was any of us to know that Charles was going to grow a backbone?" – Magneto_

—"_They named the A.I. system Sentinel, and once it's online… there's nowhere we can hide where it can't find us." – Kitty_

—"_X-Men, they call themselves the X-Men." – Rogue_

* * *

**1X01 – Sentinel – Teaser**

It was really late, or perhaps really early.

The only light came from floor to ceiling windows, letting through street lamps which glowed an off shade of whiteish-blue, casting long shadows across the empty cubicles and office chairs.

There was no sound except the huffing of someone running for their life.

Bobby Drake rounded a corner of the cubicles into a side hallway, throwing up an ice wall the moment he was clear. Taking quick, deep breaths he put his mental back into it and increased the thickness of the ice to nearly four inches.

He jumped as the ice wall was hit by a mass of flesh and claws causing cracks to splinter it like glass.

Reaching out he reinforced the ice, drawing the moisture in the air to add at least another inch of thickness to the barrier. There was a slight shake in his hands, but it wasn't from the cold.

Then it got quiet.

Bobby's breathing the only sound.

Perhaps the beast had ran off after an easier target? Bobby didn't dare take the ice wall down to check but his curiosity led him to step closer so that he might be able to see through the cracked ice for any movement on the other side. His breath was amazingly warm, ghosting a fog over the solidified liquid.

A clawed hand burst through the ice and wrapped around his neck.

Shouting intelligible curses, Bobby was pulled through the ice which gave way easily now that its structure had been compromised. His body was tossed like a doll through the air, slamming into one of the cubicle walls which collapsed under his weight.

The clawed hand grabbed his jacket and flipped him over onto the ground, the beast lording over him.

"Sabretooth," there was no mistaking the tall, muscular build, with shaggy blonde hair and two inch talons for nails.

"So you heard of me," he grinned, showing all his teeth to be as sharp as his claws.

The feral mutant must not have expected a reply as he grabbed Bobby by the throat again. Instinct led Bobby to pull pointlessly on Sabretooth's fingers as the Ice Man felt his wind pipe being slowly cut off.

"Someone…" he managed to gasp, "help me."

The only reply was Sabretooth's laugh as it echoed down the empty halls.

* * *

**1X01 – Sentinel - Act I**

_Two Days Earlier._

A sharply dressed man in his late twenties stood in the foyer of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. He was handsome, though not overly so, and he carried about himself a sense of purpose. Tucked under his arm was a small brown package which he shuffled as he waited patiently.

"Mr Gavin," Scott said as he approached, Jubilee at his side as she had fetched the math teacher upon the dapperly dressed man's arrival, "you have something for us?"

"I suppose," Jacob Gavin, Jr., a mutant otherwise known as Courier seeing as he ran a rather exclusive courier service which was used by mutant and dictator alike, "I was contracted to deliver this package to 'The X-Men'," he held out the box, complete with barcoded label, "I was told I could find them at the Xavier Institute."

"The X-Men?" Scott frowned, wasn't that the name Kitty suggested?

"He wouldn't let me sign for it," Jubilee pouted.

"Somehow I doubt Magneto would hire me to deliver to a fifteen-year-old," Courier said dryly, slipping a PDA from his pocket to scan the barcode on the label, "but Mr Summers, this I can see," he then laid the PDA on the top of the box with a stylus, "sign here please."

"Wait," Scott paused as he reached for the stylus, "this is from Magneto?"

Courier politely laughed at him, "Who else would need a black market, though universally respected, courier service to deliver a simple package to a school?"

"Point taken," Cyclops frowned, signing his name on the indicated line before gingerly taking the box.

"It's not a bomb is it?" Jubilee asked, getting closer for a better look.

"Of course not," Courier assured her, "for that I charge extra."

Scott worked open the flaps and pushed aside the peanut packing to see a silver plastic bag, the kind of thing he'd see sitting around Kitty or Doug's room. Carefully opening it up, he pulled out what looked to be a hard drive, the words 'Property of Bastion Industries' clearly written on it.

Why would Magneto send them one of the drives they stole?

…

"This is definitely one of Sentinel's software drives," Doug said, the item connected to his laptop, Kitty at his side on her own laptop, "looks like the designers in charge of this part of the project were focused on the abnormal occurrences which could be the result of mutant activity. They had a lot of variables to focus on and map out."

"There," Kitty pointed to his screen and he nodded, tapping away at something, "okay, so five teams were working on this section alone, this is only a fifth of the software."

"And we got a name," Doug's fingers never stopped working, "Project: Wideawake."

"Sounds military," Logan gruffed out and JP gave a general sound of agreement.

"We already suspected the military was behind Sentinel," Scott was trying to consider the implications of the hard drive, "but at the moment I want to know why Magneto sent this to us after his Acolytes went through all the trouble to steal it."

"To answer that, we must first we must ask another question," when Ororo spoke she had a way of commanding everyone's presence, "did Magneto steal it to use it, or so that others could not?"

"Why would he want to use it?" Bobby asked, one brow raised in confusion, "Not like he doesn't know where to find us."

"It would be his own version of Cerebro," Jean answered him, sounding a bit sullen, "only he wouldn't need a telepath to run it. And by the sounds of it, Sentinel would be more effective, running 24-hours a day, not limited to locking down on one mutant at a time..."

"It's a recruitment tool," JP shook his head, "and Magneto could build his ranks to an unimaginable level."

"Only if he has the actual Sentinel A.I. lattice, Nimrod you called it, right Kitty?" Scott asked the young girl.

"Yeah," she frowned, "all the software they stole is dead weight, as long as this is the only prototype."

"Prototype," Bobby drew the word out, "usually denotes being the only one, right?"

"Most of the time," she shrugged, looking to Doug for support but he only echoed the look on her face.

"So," Scott started to muse out loud, "Magneto presumably copies the contents of the drive and then sends it to us, why?" The group went silent for a moment, so Scott continued, "Kitty, Doug, was there anything specific on that drive, something that wouldn't be on any other drive besides the specific variables the programmers were working on? You said something about Project: Wideawake?"

"Ah, yeah, it was in the directory file," she told them.

"There's a lot of code here," Doug added, "we can take a magnifier to it, see if anything pops out, but it's gonna take several hours, possibly days."

"Alright, you two get on it, I'll excuse you from classes today," he glanced over at the Headmistress, "with your permission of course."

"Whatever Magneto's motives are," Ororo answered sourly, "they are rarely altruistic. I think it's better we find out what he's up to sooner, rather than later."

"Well," Logan lifted his mass from where he was leaning against the wall, "while Half-Pint and the Geek are doing their thing, I'll see if I can find out about this Project: Wideawake the old fashioned way."

"That's a good idea," Scott was not afraid to admit it. Logan had been in the military for a long time and while his memories could be a bit fuzzy, and in some cases completely gone, he still knew people and moreover, they knew him.

"I've got a few sources of my own," JP offered, "I'll put I out some feelers, see what shakes loose."

"I don't think we have to bother being discreet at this juncture," Scott added, giving the man a nod, "not after the incident at M-TAM."

"Which brings up the million dollar question, Slim," Wolverine eyed him carefully, "what are we going to do about Nimrod?"

Bobby raised his hand, "I vote we let Jubilee use it for target practice."

"I gave my word to Agent Duncan that we'd return it," Scott told them pointedly, "we're not the Brotherhood, we're not thieves."

"Then why did we steal it in the first place?" Jean asked, one brow raised.

Scott frowned awkwardly, "Borrowed…"

"No, first Logan uses it to sharpen his claws," Bobby went on, "then Jubilee can use it for target practice."

"Not a bad idea, Popsicle," Logan snickered.

"We're not going to destroy government property," Scott frowned at them both.

JP snickered, "Says the man who took out a lamp post last night…"

Scott was really starting to lose ground on this argument, "That was an accident, what Bobby and Logan are suggesting would be deliberate."

"You can't seriously be thinking of letting them have that back, four-eyes," Logan was practically laughing at him. "It's a virtual WMD."

"I don't like the idea of them having Sentinel any more than you do," he stood up to the much older man, "but I'm looking at all the facts here. For one, Agent Duncan has stuck his neck out for us more times than we can count, this has been no exception. Duncan getting Sentinel back would as much help him as it would us."

"It's been beneficial," Jean agreed with him, "having Fred on our side, covering for us."

"If we tell him what Sentinel is," Bobby argued, "then surely—"

"He'll stick his neck out again, yes," Scott interrupted, having already thought this through, "and he'll get himself fired. As much as I don't want to lose an asset in the government, he's a friend too," no one wanted to argue that point with him, so he added, "We also want to show the government that mutants are not the bad guys."

"Has anyone ever tried to explain to Magneto that his actions are nothing but self-fulfilling prophecies?" JP asked the room and he received some very worn and tired stares from Ororo, Scott, Jean, even Logan, "Okay then."

"I understand what you are saying, Scott," Jean weighed in, "and I do agree we must be the better person, but do you think this is really the time to prove it, considering what's at stake?"

"All the more reason to do it," Scott would not waver on this point.

"We have to be the first ones to make that move," Ororo agreed.

"We could work on an anti-Sentinel program," Kitty offered up and everyone turned to look at her. "They're at least a year from finishing, we have enough here to build a defense against Sentinel, even a shut-down virus. It might need a little tweaking once a full version of Sentinel goes online, seeing how good its hacking and anti-hack protocols are, but we'll not be completely defenseless."

"Still risky," Logan shook his head, "Magneto might steal Sentinel, _again_, and I'm not sure who'd I rather have it, Bucket Head or the military."

"It's a risk we'll have to take," Scott told the man. "No matter what we choose to do with Sentinel, we're either taking risks or playing into the military's idea that mutants are to be feared, which only makes Magneto's position stronger. Personally, I believe the moral victory is the most important one to win right now."

Scott looked at each one of his teammates, seeing the expressions on their faces vary from reluctant agreement to barely concealed discontent.

"Kitty and Doug do their thing, then Nimrod goes back, the way we found it," he told them all in his most authoritative voice. "It's my decision, it's not up for a vote, but if anyone can come up with a better idea that doesn't involve sinking to the Brotherhood's level, I'm all ears."

An awkward silence filled the room until Bobby said, "Well, I got nothing."

"Fine," Logan spoke with a low growl, "we play it your way, Boy Scout," and with that the feral mutant continued on his way out of the room leaving Scott to wonder just how far he could push his team as their leader… and if he really wanted to find out.

…

Homeland Security Assistant Director Valerie Cooper sat at her desk, tapping a pen against her teeth as she read the latest report which was classified Top Secret, though she considered that a joke. In reality, sensitive government information was kept secret on a glorified honor system.

She shook her head and flipped open the next file, everything the government had on a certain school in Westchester, New York. It was a binder actually, seeing as it was too thick to exist in the classic manila file folder. It was one of three that came out of a box which was sitting next to her desk.

"A.D. Cooper," there was a knock at her door to accompany the voice.

"Enter," Val didn't bother looking up, she recognized the woman.

"I have the rest of the files you requested," the analyst brought over four of the typical folders, each an inch thick, "everything we have on the names you listed, I automatically cataloged them as classified Top Secret."

"Thanks, Rita," Val opened up the first file, the drivers license photo of Robert Drake of Long Island peering up at her with a cheesy grin.

"Not a problem," Rita said like a person not used to getting thanks for doing her job, "we're awaiting some files from Canada on Beaubier. Looks like he was Department H and his records are classified Top Secret and SOI."

"Did you speak to Agent Brown?" she asked as she pulled out John-Paul Beaubier's file, passport photo and travel visa documents right on top.

"I did," the woman nodded, "explained it was a 'super human' issue and they agreed to share, but getting files out of Department H is a feat even the Canadian Security Intelligence Service are hard pressed to complete."

Valerie sighed, she knew that all too well, "Keep at it, if I have to put in call the Director of the Department of National Defense myself I will."

"It'll probably have to come to that," Rita shrugged, "but I'll see what I can do."

"Appreciate it," the agent went back to looking at the files, the next one was the thinnest, not a lot of information on Katherine Pryde, she wasn't even old enough to vote.

Rita left, shutting the door behind her, and Val took a moment to herself, sitting back in the chair and surveying the piles of paperwork before her. "Why now?" she asked the air.

"Why go on the offensive?" she rubbed her chin before leaning on the arm rest of her chair. "Finally fed up? Or do you have an end game?"

Either way, this could only end badly.

…

In a warehouse on the Jersey docks, three individuals sat around playing cards on a makeshift table while a fourth chatted on his phone a few feet away.

"I keep telling you," Avalanche sighed as he put down a card, "'lighting it on fire' is not a legitimate strategy."

"Sure it is," Pyro seemed absolutely sure as Rogue tried to hide her smirk behind her cards. "Name anything and I bet I can solve it with fire."

"Fine," the Grecian folded and unfolded his cards in his hand, "a grass fire, and you can't use your pyrokinesis."

"Ah, you see," the Aussie's grinned from ear to ear, "you can use a small, controlled fire, to create a breaker of unburnable land therefore stopping the approach of an uncontrollable grass fire."

Avalanche looked entirely unamused, one sarcastic comment away from punching his friend squarely in the face.

"Should have said forest fire," Rogue put down two cards and picked up the same, "he would have had a harder time with that."

"Hey," he pointed to his temple, "no cheating!"

"Sugar, I never cheat," she drawled, "I don't have to."

"The package was delivered this morning," Quicksilver interrupted their game, "now we sit back and wait for them to figure it out."

"Shouldn't take too long," Rogue commented, putting in her bid, "from what I gather from Pryde, her and another kid, Douglas, are more than capable of sorting through that much data, faster than anyone we got."

"How long you think?" their leader asked.

"To find it, a couple of hours," Rogue shrugged, "interpreting it, dunno."

"Then we best be ready to move at a moment's notice," he nodded and started to turn away before stopping, "oh, and in light of what happened in Bridgeport, Magneto is sending us some… assistance."

"Dare we ask?" Pyro grabbed cards from the top of the deck.

"I know he's a pain to work with," Pietro rolled his eyes, "but deal with it. Anyone else want to try to take on Wolverine by themselves?"

"Sure," Rogue smiled.

"I'll need you elsewhere," he told her pointedly, "so you'll all have to suck it up and play nice. It'll make things go smoother and faster."

"Aye, aye," the Southerner said with mock enthusiasm to which the speedy mutant shook his head and walked off.

"Note to self," Pyro folded his cards, "lay off the litter box jokes this time, he doesn't appreciate them nearly as much as I do."

…

Perched at his desk in his room, Doug was tapping away at his keyboard as lines of code scrolled down his screen. He had the hard drive connected to the computer which was also connected to the laptop Kitty was using as she sat on the floor, leaning against his bed.

His room was modestly decorated, a few anime posters on the wall, but all his knickknacks were pieces of computers or other like systems. The other side of the room was completely bare, his roommate graduated last year and decided to move on to college instead of sticking around.

Kitty and Doug were facing the same decision as they graduated at the end of the school year and neither had decided what they wanted to do, they had options.

"Hey," Ben popped his head through the door which was left open due to school policy in the boys and girls dormitory wings, "movie marathon in the lounge, you coming?"

"Nah," Kitty said, Doug a little oblivious as he read the code at breakneck speed, "maybe later."

"Alright," Ben glanced over at him, "Doug? How about you?"

"I'm good," he told the fire welding mutant.

"Suit yourselves," Ben shrugged and headed down the hall.

The two lapsed into silence again as they continued to work, until Kitty said, "You seeing this partition?"

"Yeah," he kept working on the code, "it seems to be a temporary storage area for a port connection to a data backup."

"Right," she nodded, "this is the part of the software that under specific circumstances automatically links to a large storage cache of information which is not part of Nimrod or Sentinel, it's a bank of separate servers."

"Exactly," he agreed and moved on with what he was doing.

"So," she held out the vowel, "what kind of information is it accessing?"

He paused and looked at her, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Kitty moved slightly on her side to look up at him better, "Nimrod is the specific processor/server which holds the software meant to look for mutants, right?"

"And Sentinel is the overall program," he nodded.

"Yes, and what is so important to Sentinel that it has to access _specific_ information on a _specific_ secured server," she asked as if she was trying to answer the question in her head and was coming up empty, "I mean, it can't be stuff like medical histories or average temperatures, we already know it has real time access to any non-closed database."

"I see what you mean," he looked back at the screen as he tried to suss it out, "there would be no need to create a specific connection to a specific database unless it was a closed database connected only to Nimrod."

"We already found the port for its memory and storage," she put her laptop down and started to stand, "it's also on an open system so as to be accessible and transmittable to mobile strike teams. So, what, is this a back up maybe?"

"Possibly," he started tapping away, accessing the temporary storage port which was empty as it hadn't been used yet, simply written into the code. "You know, if I check the protocols of when the port is to be activated…" he trailed off as he kept looking, Kitty coming to peer over his shoulder which he didn't mind too much.

A good minute later, he managed to clear up the code and see the bare bones of it, at which point the purpose of the port became clear.

He looked over at Kitty who was staring at the screen, "Oh, frak."

…

Jean was sitting in the library, book in hand. She could hear the teens in the lounge down the hall but she had gotten used to the noise a long time ago and enjoyed what quite she did have.

"Oh, hi Jean," Scott said as he entered the room, making his way to one of the book cases to grab something, "not watching the movie?"

"_Attack of the Killer Tomatoes_?" she laughed, "Let me guess, Bobby's pick?"

"He always says he likes the classics," he chuckled, taking two math theory books from the shelf, "I think they are going to watch _Big Fish_ after."

"Oh," she smiled, "I love that movie."

"I know," he returned her smile, then went awkwardly silent. It was times like these she very much questioned her stance on not invading people's minds without permission. Surely it wouldn't hurt? It could even help?

Scott's phone rang and he seemed to welcome the interruption.

"Hey, Kitty," he answered, then after a short pause, "I'm in the library… Okay," and with that he hung up.

Now Jean was too curious not to take advantage of her telepathy and sensed out towards Kitty just to gain her general mood, "Kitty seems rather agitated."

"Sounded it, too," he frowned, "did we make a mistake in letting her on the team? She's almost eighteen, but she's still young."

"Let's be honest, Scott," she couldn't help but grin, "no one _lets_ Kitty do anything. She defines 'where there is a will, there is a way'."

"Point taken," he replied after a moment's consideration.

A minute later, Kitty and Doug came bounding into the room, slightly short of breath, exclaiming, "We figured it out!"

"Figured what out?" he frowned.

"Why Magneto sent us the drive," the girl didn't bother to contain herself, "the government doesn't have to get Sentinel fully up and running to hunt us."

"It doesn't?" Scott said at the same time Jean asked, "Why not?"

"Because they already have files on us," Doug spoke as if it had been obvious from the beginning,

"Sentinel doesn't have to wonder if we're a mutant, it already does" Kitty clarified, "and can track us anywhere we go."

* * *

**1X01 – Sentinel – Act II**

"That's it then, we don't give it back."

"It's not as simple as that, Logan," Scott shook his head, "if we destroy Nimrod then we are no better than Magneto and his Brotherhood."

"That's where you're wrong, Slim," the feral mutant got into his face, "we are better than those cowards, we do the right things for the right reasons."

"You and I have different definitions of what's 'right'," Scott spoke bluntly.

"No kidding," he gruffed.

"If you two could quit posturing," Ororo crossed her arms, "then perhaps we could discuss this as rational individuals."

Scott grimaced, "'Ro's right."

Wolverine rolled his eyes and walked off, taking up his usual perch against the wall with a light growl.

"Now, let me get this straight," the headmistress turned to Kitty, "there is a large database of information on mutants which the government could use in conjunction with Sentinel to hunt mutants."

"Yes," Kitty nodded, "it apparently has everything, photos, stats, aliases, habits, whatever it could use to track someone. A similar program is already in use by NSA, CIA, etc, but this would be geared specifically towards known mutants."

"Like us," JP added.

"Like us," the young woman frowned, "and it would be able to track more than facial recognition, it knows our powers, so if there is, say, temperature fluctuations," she pointed to Bobby, "then it knows to narrow its search parameters. We're talking taking something that could take normal humans hours to do and getting results in minutes, possibly even seconds."

"Oh, joy," Bobby said sarcastically.

"And unknown mutants?" Scott asked.

"That's what the rest of the software if for," she told them, "but it's not complete yet."

"You said it'd be year or so?" he remembered what she said that morning.

"Probably," Kitty shrugged, "but it really was just a guess."

"You never know when someone will hit a breakthrough," Doug added, "having the right thought at the right time, it speeds up development."

Scott thought this over for a moment, pursing his lips together as he tried to figure out the bigger picture, "We know the government has information on the school, and the Brotherhood of course, but who else?"

"Who else?" Jean asked a tad incredibly, "There are hundreds of non-affiliated mutants out there... thousands."

"We were worried Magneto would turn Sentinel into a recruitment tool," Ororo figured it out before the rest of them, "if he gets his hands on that list, he would use it just the same."

"But he can't," Kitty piped up, "he needs Nimrod to access the database."

"He does?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," she elaborated, "the database is designed to be only accessible by Nimrod in order to avoid hacking and corruption of data."

"So we destroy the database then," Bobby stated the seemingly obvious, "all problems solved."

"The information is not unique," Kitty rolled her eyes, "it's just a central data core that has everything in one place. We destroy it and they just rebuild it, a couple months, tops."

"This explains why Magneto sent the hard drive to us," JP said wryly.

"Yes," Storm nodded, "he wants us to use Nimrod to access the information, it would be much easier than trying to find all the individual files across all the government agencies."

"Ambush," Logan half snickered, half growled.

"So we don't destroy it then?" Bobby said slowly, questionly, thinking maybe he had it this time.

"The list is just as valuable to us, Bobby," Jean told him, "there are many mutants out there who have no one to help them, who have been targeted by the government and feel alone, afraid. We could find them, help them."

"Not to mention all the information they have on the Brotherhood that we don't," JP added.

"Is it worth the risk though?" the Iceman looked between them all for an answer, only to receive nothing but glances and furrowed brows.

"We don't even know where it is at the moment," Kitty broke the silence, "but it shouldn't take us much longer to figure it out."

"Alright," Scott let a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "find out where the database is being kept, this will give us time to weigh our options."

"So we can decide to do the pansy thing," Logan rolled his eyes as he pushed off the wall.

"So we can decide to do the right thing," no matter how many times he had to say it.

…

"They have two of the most powerful known telepaths," Val reminded Wilcox, the leader of one of her covert op teams, an older man with graying hair, "standard operating procedures do not apply."

"There's no such thing as a safe minimum distance," he crossed his arms and shook his head lightly as if he was thinking, "if the telepaths don't catch us, the one called Wolverine will sniff us out, literally."

"Exactly," Val slid a file from her desk, "which is why I'm thinking the NSA might actually be good for something for once," she handed the papers over to him, "they have a low level surveillance team already keeping an eye on the school. Xavier has to know about it."

"We use it as a piggy back," he nodded as he flipped through the folder.

"Two days," she told him, "I want an action plan, what's feasible, what's not. I'd prefer to keep the NSA out of it but I'll make them play ball if I have to."

The man grimaced, "The NSA make for a lousy Short Stop."

Val chuckled, but there was a knock at the door and Rita let herself in, "Pardon the interruption, I have those files you were waiting on."

"Perfect," Val turned to her ops leader, "two days."

"On it," he nodded and headed out of the room, shutting the door behind himself as Rita approached with two folders in her hand.

"Department H gave us the redacted files on Jean-Paul Beaubier," she passed over one of the folders, "if we want the full reports, you're going to have to strong arm someone."

"Figured as much," she flipped open the dossier and did a quick scan, "invulnerable skin plus overly efficient metabolism means super speed, quite handy."

"And he's not the only Beaubier to join DH," her assistant handed over the other folder, "he has a twin sister, Jeanne-Marie, also got the invulnerable skin, but instead of the metabolism she has highly defined and dense bone and muscle structure."

Val glanced up as she took the file, "How defined and dense?"

"Girl can fly," the woman said with a touch of awe, "after bench pressing a Buick."

"Not bad," Val could admit that mutant abilities were pretty spectacular, as much as they were dangerous, "I wonder why she wasn't part of the team in Bridgeport."

"We're not even sure at this point it was a 'team' and not a circumstantial team-up," Rita pointed out then pressed her lips together as if to take back what she said.

"No, no you're right, at this moment it's speculation," she assured the woman, "but if Xavier _is_ stepping up against the Brotherhood, I want in on the ground floor, I don't want to be playing catch up a couple months from now when all Hell's broken lose."

"Of course," Rita gave a thankful smile, "do you want me to call a session of the Council?"

"Not yet," she didn't have enough to give a full report, "but we will, sooner rather than later."

"Alright, I'll leave you to your reading then," the woman gave a slight nod then walked back to the door. As she opened it, she turned her head and said, "oh, Jeanne-Marie Beaubier's file is an interesting read, even her redactions have redactions."

…

"So, you've heard of it," JP said over the phone as he stood out on the patio of the school, "but that's it, no details," he listened for another minute, then contained a sigh, "alright, thanks, if you find anything, let me know, but don't put your neck out too far if you don't have to."

Ending the phone call, the Candian speed mutant sat down on the brick wall that separated the patio from the grassy lawn. He'd exhausted pretty much every contact he had… that he could still speak to anyway.

"There you are, Jean-Paul," he looked up to see his sister, Jeanne-Marie, approach, crossing her arms and looking rather perturbed but with a smile on her face. Considering the rather high collared blouse and full length pencil skirt, it made her look like an extra in some 1940s period piece, "you said you'd help in the kitchen."

"Right, course," JP shook his head, "sorry, was talking to an old friend," he paused for only a split second before pushing, "one who used to work in Department H."

Jeanne-Marie blinked a couple of times, then smiled, "Nostalgia won't save you from doing the dishes, you may be five minutes older but I bet I can still give you a good wallop."

"That I don't doubt," he couldn't help a chuckle, but he had to push a little more, "Jeanne-Marie, do you remember hearing anything about Project: Wideawake?"

"Sounds military," she shrugged her shoulders and gave him a bemused look, "were would I hear such things?"

"In Department H," he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, "you had a higher clearance than I did, you were in the advanced program."

She laughed, "Don't be daft, _you_ were in the military, I was teaching school, remember."

"No, Jeanne," he couldn't help but tighten his grip a little, "you joined the Canadian Army with me, you were approached by Department H first, you were offered the advanced-"

His sister grabbed his wrist and with seemingly little effort she twisted it over which caused him to lurch sideways lest he snap a bone. He may be invulnerable but that only applied to his skin.

"Big brother is talking nonsense," Jeanne-Marie said coldly, "when he should be doing the dishes."

Glancing up into her eyes, the color had stayed the same but they looked sharper, leaner, and much more precise than they had seconds before. "Jeanne…"

She blinked and surprise filled her expression as she let go of him, "Jean-Paul, always goofing around, come on, just because you have super-speed doesn't mean you can procrastinate."

With those words she turned and headed back into the study, leaving JP to flex his hand, still able to feel the pain from her grip. His worse fears wouldn't go away, they just kept getting worse.

…

"No, no, I'm telling you," Pyro was talking as he and Rogue got out the car and headed into the warehouse, "not once does Superman make a decision for himself, his dad, Zod, it's all him either being passive or being forced."

"I thought something seemed off," she nodded as she remembered all the bits of the film. Her memory wasn't photographic, but when you have people in your head who have also experienced said movie, show, book, etc, then it's easy to get a second opinion. "Though to be honest I spent most of the movie annoyed at Hollywood's continual perpetuation of the dangerous stereotype of people hiding under a bridge during a tornado."

"Wait," he frowned, "hiding under bridges is a bad thing?"

"Duh," she twirled her finger in the air, "wind… aerodynamics."

It took him a second, then his eyes widened, "Ooooh."

"Exactly," she smiled and they headed around a corner to the main area of the mothballed building.

"About time," Avalanche was sitting at a make-shift table of a concrete slap on top of two barrels, reading some 'Bars & Beers' magazine.

They sat the sacks of Indian food on the table, Rogue pulling a face, "Hey, if I'm eating curry, I'm getting it from the best, even if I have to go across town."

"Food's food," Pryo started in, pulling out containers, "let's eat."

Searching for the cutlery, Rogue couldn't help but feel, for a moment, that they were being watched. But that was silly, Avalanche had seismic sensors all across the building thanks to his mutation, he could be able to tell if someone approached. In theory…

"Down," Rogue had just enough time to grab Pyro by his collar and drag him to the floor as the massive force slammed onto the table, nearly knocking it over but cracking the concrete. Rolling over quickly she was back on her feet but in a crouched position, just in time to hear a snarling laugh, "Sabretooth."

"How pathetic," the mutant stayed perched on the table, but he retracted his claws, his sharp teeth still shining through, "no wonder you lost to a bunch of school marms."

"We didn't lose," she stood to her full height, "it was a tactical retreat."

"Whatever makes you sleep at night," he chuckled and picked up one of the containers that managed not to fall to the floor, "oh wait," he used one claw to spear a piece of Tandoori chicken, "you don't."

"That's seventy bucks worth of dinner there, kitty," Rogue ignored his jab as she watched him eat and lick his fingers.

"Worth every penny," he grinned at her, his eyes positively gleeful behind his shaggy blonde hair as he ate the chicken.

"One of these days," she took a step forward, annoyed that she was forced to look up at him because not only was he tall, the exact opposite of his often rival Wolverine, but him being on the table put her at an even more severe disadvantage, "I'm gonna put you into such a deep sleep, you ain't ever gonna wake up."

Sabretooth chuckled, "We both know you don't have the stomach for it, for what it'll do to you," he looked her up and down, "which is a pity, " he gave her false sorrow, "cause maybe then you might actually be worthy of your dear old mum."

"Did you come here to help," Quicksilver was now standing beside the table, "or just eat our food and be genuinely annoying."

"As opposed to fallaciously annoying?" Pyro piped in from hiding behind Avalanche.

Rolling her eyes, Rogue used that moment to disengage from the feral mutant. She knew some of his darkest secrets, most villainous evils… and he knew she knew… and he seemed to take a twisted sense of pride in that.

"I'm here as insurance," he chewed on another piece of chicken, smacking his lips.

Pyro tried to grab one of the other containers which looked to have survived, but an evil eye from Sabretooth caused him to back off. Shaking his head, Avalanche stepped forward and picked up what was salvageable, "Your kind of insurance tends to be rather messy."

"Yeah, it is," Sabretooth wasn't at all bothered.

"Try to tone it down," Quicksilver crossed his arms, "avoid a mass slaughter if at all possible, they may be annoying but they are fellow mutants."

"Like that matters to him," Rogue shook her head and the feral man didn't bother to even try to deny it.

…

"I've come to a decision," Scott had the whole group gathered in the teacher's lounge again. "Once Kitty and Doug figure out where this database is being kept, we'll use Nimrod to download the files. This way we know who the government knows about, who needs to be protected, and what other threats are out there we don't know about."

"It shouldn't take us much longer," Kitty sat up in her chair, "Doug almost has it figured out, he's backtracking protocols and some other technically illegal stuff I won't bore you with."

"Good," he nodded at the girl, "I want you to show Jean how to connect Nimrod and download the files."

"What?" Kitty's mouth gapped open.

"As previously pointed out, this is probably an ambush," Scott pointed out, "and the Professor does not want you going into any fights until you're a legal adult, that's what you agreed to."

"Yeah," she sighed, "I know."

"You can come with us though," he told her and that perked her up, "I want you to stay in the car, a good distance away. If there are camera feeds you can hack into them and that will be a great help."

"And you can help me out if I run into anything unexpected," Jean added with a smile.

Kitty nodded, happier, "I can do that."

"Alright," Scott then addressed the whole group, "the rest of us will be on the defensive. I assume this will be an office building or warehouse, we can figure it out specifically once we know more. But I figure Logan and JP on the perimeter, Ro and I guarding Jean."

"What about me?" Bobby's head popped up when he realized he wasn't mentioned.

"Somewhere in the middle," he shrugged, "then wherever we need you the most."

Bobby frowned, "Why does this feel like getting picked last for Little League again?"

"This all sounds dandy," Wolverine was leaning against the table, "but what do we do with Nimrod afterwards?"

"We copy the information," Scott looked him squarely in the eyes, even if Logan couldn't really tell behind his ruby quartz shades, "then give it to Agent Duncan to return."

"Figures," the feral mutant said with disgust.

"I'm not doing this just to be stubborn," Scott said pointedly, "I am thinking about this school, about mutant-kind."

"By putting them in harm's way," Logan scoffed.

"By proving to the government they don't need such a thing as Sentinel in the first place," JP said before another shouting match could start between the two. "It's a noble idea, Scott, but forgive my pessimism, society doesn't work that way."

"It doesn't because people take the easy option," Ororo replied, "hate is always easier to sell than tolerance because hate takes so much less effort."

JP nodded, conceding to her point.

"You can't build something without putting effort into it," Scott added, "it's bad enough that we're actually going to have to start fighting the Brotherhood, we shouldn't be antagonizing the government too."

"Whatever," Logan rolled his eyes and walked off, he was just out of the room when Kitty's phone went off.

"It's Doug," the girl was reading a text in one hand while grabbing a tablet computer with the other and connecting to the overhead, "he's got a location."

A map came up on the projection screen showing a converted warehouse in New Jersey. "It's an 'unused' office space for Bastion Industries in Newark, New Jersey."

"Alright then," Scott did some quick math, "that's about an hour drive, we'll want to hit this at a little before dawn, we need some time to recon as well, so be ready to leave by three am, I suggest we all have early nights."

"Someone gonna tell Wolverine?" Bobby asked.

Scott smiled, "I nominate you."

"Oh," the Iceman frowned, "it is Little League all over again."

* * *

**1X01 – Sentinel – Act III**

It was about time to go and JP found himself walking down one of the halls, passing the kitchen. He heard a noise, nothing too sinister, but it was pretty late, or early, and curiosity got the better of him. Perhaps it was Bobby needing to be reminded to get a move on?

When he got in sight of the food staging area, it was covered in all manner of containers full of everything needed to make the world's best BLT. Sitting at the island on a stool was his sister, in a low-cut t-shirt with a sparkly Union Jack, flipping through a magazine with one hand while nibbling on the sandwich with another.

"Don't worry," she said without looking up, "I'll clean up my mess before I go."

"Jeanne-Marie," he frowned, "it's almost three o'clock in the morning, what are you doing?"

"I felt like a late night snack," she glanced up at him, "is that a crime?"

"No," he frowned, not sure what to make of her, after all, she was right, there was nothing wrong with making yourself some food if you were hungry, but there was just something… off.

"You better get going," she went back to her magazine, "the troop is leaving."

He studied her for another long moment before deciding there was no point getting into things right now with her, especially as there was nothing to really talk about. Giving his head a slight shake, he threw his coat over his shoulder and headed to the garage.

"JP," Jean was the first to notice he was there and she walked over to him, "I saw your sister in the kitchen, something didn't seem right."

"You too, huh?" he gave her a wry grin.

"I've only known her since you brought her here," the red-head admitted, "but she almost seemed like a different person."

"Yeah," he couldn't look her in the eyes, then she might agree with what he was thinking, "let's talk about this when we get back."

"Sure," she nodded and let him walk past her, it seemed everyone had arrived.

"So, we taking two cars?" Bobby asked, the group totaled seven and were not going to fit in his Ford Escape, no matter how roomy it was.

"I can zip ahead," JP volunteered, "start on the recon."

"And I will fly," Storm was wearing her special cape which helped her glide on the winds, "JP takes the ground and I will do aerial reconnaissance."

"Good idea," Scott agreed, "Jean will contact you when we get there."

With a nod, Jean-Paul ran off at almost top speed, barely pausing to get through the fence, and he made his way down south to New Jersey… his sister never far from his mind.

…

Rogue wasn't sleeping well, it didn't take a genius to see the faint worry lines creasing around her eyes and mouth. It did take someone with super-hearing to notice that her heart beats per minute where high, especially for someone who was supposed to be asleep.

Reaching out one clawed hand, knowing Rogue couldn't absorb through the keratin of his nails, Sabretooth lightly touched her on the nose, grinning as he watched her react.

First her left arm swept up to block the perceived attack, while her right arm reached out and grabbed him by the throat. She was wearing gloves as she napped on appropriated law furniture, so there was no risk of absorption, not that he'd let her get close enough otherwise.

"What were you dreaming, I wonder," Sabretooth said lowly as her eyes registered him as her attacker, surprise turning into near rage, "was it that little visit to Gò Dài," he grinned as her hand tightened, "or maybe Belgrade," he chuckled, "so many wonderful memories to choose from."

"You're not a monster," Rogue said as she let go, sitting up straight, "you're a pathetic waste of the mutant gene," she got into his face, "you wouldn't even be able to hack it as a human."

With a growl, Sabretooth punched out, slicing through the fabric of the chair as Rogue ducked to the side. As fun as it was to taunt someone who knew your secrets, it meant they also knew where your buttons were.

"Enough," Quicksilver was right there, "we got word, the X-Men are on the move."

"You're sure?" Sabretooth asked with little care, annoyed that his fun was interrupted.

"Where else would they be going at near four in the morning?" the man replied dryly.

"Well then," he let all of his claws spring free, "I think it's time I show you kiddos how it's done."

Rogue sharply brought her knee up into his gut and before he could react punched him square in the jaw to push him off her and onto the floor as she hopped up, "Yeah, you do that."

Rage boiling over, Sabretooth growled as his teeth grew as sharp as his claws. He was back on his feet in seconds, using his considerably height to stare down at the woman, Quicksilver shouting out a warning. The Southern mutant just stared up at him in defiance, and that he couldn't stand.

He had to put her back in her place.

Leaning forward, she didn't flinch, so he whispered, "Pleasant dreams."

That broke her, every inch of boldness crumbling to dust. With a self-satisfied smile, he turned his back on her and walked away, laughing.

…

Bobby pulled the SUV up to about three blocks from the warehouse and the group piled out as JP appeared in front of them.

"No sign of the Brotherhood and the building has basic security," the Canadian filled in, "two night guards, an alarm system, but that's it."

"Probably think of it as a low priority target," Scott rubbed his chin, "after all, you can't access the database without Nimrod."

"Speaking of which," Kitty went to the back of the Escape but as she still had her laptop in one hand and a table in the other, she used her foot to activate the automatic liftgate on the Ford Escape. Once it was up, she put her laptop down next to a backpack, unzipping it and pulling it down to show the mechanical box, "remember, Jean, the left connector, not the right."

"And follow the prompts, yes," the woman nodded, "I remember."

"Easy peazy," Kitty connected the table to Nimrod and brought up a holding screen, then put it to sleep and slipped it into the bag.

Jean grabbed the pack and slung it over her shoulder, "Ready when you are."

"Logan," Scott called out to the man who had walked a few feet from the vehicle and was sniffing the air in a crouched position, "any sign of the Brotherhood?"

"Not yet," Wolverine gave a disappointed growl.

"Jean," he turned to the woman, "you contacted Ro?"

"Yes," Jean nodded, "she's hovering above the building, said she'll meet us inside."

"Good, let's try to make this as quick as possible," Scott reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his visor, "who knows what kind of response we'll get from the alarm going off."

"I'll see if I can hack into it from here and shut it off," Kitty closed the liftgate with her laptop in hand, then turned to Bobby, "leave me your fob."

"What," he clutched it to his chest, "no! Everyone keeps thinking they can just drive my baby."

"Oh, brother," she made a face at him, "I might need to charge my laptop, I promise I won't drive her."

He frowned and looked at the fob for the keyless push-button ignition, "You promise?"

"I promise," there was a little touch of snark to her voice.

"Okay," he sighed and handed over the fob with a bit of a pout.

"If you can cut the alarm, then great," Scott made sure the visor was snug on his head, "otherwise, let's treat this as in and out, no one gets hurt, especially the guards."

The group nodded, except for Logan who was already making his way down the sidewalk. Kitty crawled into the passenger's seat of the Escape, laptop on her knees, and the rest of the gang followed the feral mutant down the street.

…

Not too high above the building, Ororo Munroe delicately lowered herself onto the roof of the two story converted warehouse, just out of camera range, her white irises nearly glowing in the moonlight.

"I await your arrival," she said over the mindlink.

"_We're outside_," Jean replied, "_looking for an opening._"

"_Kitty,_" Scott came over the link, "_how are you with the alarms?_"

"_Almost… stupid firewall_," the girl replied, followed by a mental shriek of happiness, "_I'm in, bad news is I can't shut it off, good news though, I can keep it from getting outside the building_."

"_Great job,_" he answered, "_Ro, trip the roof alarm, make them look up while we come in from the ground."_

"One moment," she confirmed, then made her way to the roof exit. It wouldn't initially open, a security punch pad barring her way.

Storm gave it a light frown, then pulled a small pocket knife from her boot. Using the edge, she popped open the cover to see the wires inside. Pursing her lips into a thin line, she quickly stripped two of the wires and crossed them over.

The door unlocked with a soft click.

"_Ro?" _

"Had to bypass the key pad," she replied as she propped the door open.

"_I could have gotten that for you_," it was obvious Kitty was pouting a little.

"Have to keep my skills sharp," she smiled to herself as she closed up the knife and put it back in her boot.

"_Skills_?" Bobby's voice came over.

"_That's great, Ro_," Logan drawled, "_but you're supposed to set the alarm _off_, not bypass it._"

"Of course," she looked down at the key pad, grabbing one of the wires and yanking it from the rest, immediately a pulsing screech filled the halls, "force of habit."

"_Habit?!_"

…

When they opened the front door of the building, there was a short hallway leading to another door. Scott turned to Wolverine but the Canadian was already running down the side of the building, taking his perimeter patrol. The rest of the team quickly walked down the hallway, Scott noting the keypad lock.

"So," Bobby said as Scott fiddled with his visor, "no one got anything to say about our headmistress' apparently felony inducing hobby?"

"Honestly," Scott shot a very small beam at the panel, sparks flew out and the door popped, "I thought everyone knew about that."

"Apparently no one tells me anything," Bobby was frowning as they entered the foyer.

"Stop!" a man shouted, a security guard with his weapon drawn and trained on them.

Before anyone else could react, JP had appeared behind the man, one arm around his throat, nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm in order to cut off blood flow to the brain, but for only a split second.

"Nighty nite," the Canadian speedster said as the guard passed out, his gun dropping to the floor.

"He gonna be okay?" Scott asked as JP dragged the man over to the desk which was bolted to the floor.

"He'll wake back up in a moment," he pulled a zip-tie from his pocket and tied him to the desk, "no harm done."

"Good work then," Scott knew he could trust the man but sometimes he needed that little reassurance. What they were doing was already dodgy, they couldn't risk giving the government more reason to want to hunt them, "head back outside and do another sweep, keep an eye out for Acolytes."

JP nodded, disappearing down the hallway. Scott then went to the control board for the security system and quickly found the off button for the not-so-silent alarm.

"The database should be this way," Jean started down one of the side halls, Scott and Bobby following her past several office doors, stopping at an intersection when Jean came to a halt, throwing her hand up for them to be quiet.

That's when Scott heard it, the shuffle of feet and the light clicking of a utility belt.

Jean leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, whispering, "Sleep," followed by a soft thud in the hallway.

The group finally rounded the corner to see the other guard curled up peacefully on the floor.

"Now that's cool," Bobby grinned.

"Helps when they are already halfway there," Jean shrugged as Scott tried one of the doors to find it was unlocked and opened into a small office, "much easier to trick the mind when it's willing."

"Good job nevertheless," Scott smiled at her then gestured to Bobby to help him quickly move the man into the office. He didn't wake up, just snored a little louder.

They were about to leave when Bobby grabbed a coat that was hanging on a hook and balled it up quickly, stuffing it under the man's head. When the two just looked at him, he splayed his hands and said, "What? It's thirteen degrees colder in this part of the building, I bet the heating isn't' even on."

Scott and Jean exchanged looks, then with a smile headed towards the database. They came across another locked door, Scott blasted it open as he did the last one.

The database room was dark except for the eerie glow of pinpoint reds, yellows, and blues from the stacks of servers which stood like monoliths across the room. Jean turned on the lights and that didn't make it any better, only highlighted the fact that there was more servers than he could immediately count.

"Is this in preparation for Sentinel's launch," Scott wondered out loud as they headed over to the control module, "or do they have that much information on mutants?"

"_How many servers are there_?" Kitty asked, "_I wanna see_!"

"One second," Jean closed her eyes and everyone on the link received a mental image of the server room.

"_Woah_," Kitty said in awe. "_Hook up Nimrod and let's find out_."

Jean pulled Nimrod out of the backpack and sat it on the top of a work station, mumbling the word 'left' to herself as she connected the processor. Then waking up the computer tablet, she started to run through the prompts when Storm made her way into the room from the other end.

"Hey, Ro," Scott greeted her, "nice work upstairs."

"Yeah," Bobby popped his head from around the server he was looking at, "just what kind of habits are we talking about here?"

She gave him a coy smile, "Discussion for another time."

"_Good news,_" Kitty said as she was receiving a real time feed from the tablet to her laptop, "_the servers are not completely full."_

"Bad news?" Scott asked wryly.

"_It's going to take forty-five-ish minutes to download everything,_" there was an unspoken 'sorry' in her voice.

Scott gave this a moment's consideration, "Alright, JP and Logan stick to perimeter patrol, we'll just have to sit it out and hope we're wrong about the ambush."

…

Quicksilver and Rogue were both staring through binoculars as they stood on top of the A/C vents of a building about two blocks away, spotting Wolverine jump from the roof of one building to another.

"Sure he can't smell us?" Quicksilver asked.

"The wind hasn't shifted," Sabretooth was crouched below them on the roof.

"Good," he lowered his binoculars and glanced around at his team, all waiting to go, "conservative estimates put the download time between half an hour to an hour. I say we go in forty."

"What about the midnight snack they left behind?" Sabretooth spoke with a little too much glee in his voice.

"Leave her," he told the man empathically, "there is nothing she can do at that distance but tip her teammates off. You'll just have to get your jollies beating the crap out of Wolverine."

Sabretooth bared his teeth but made no other comment.

"You know," Pyro piped up from where he was sitting against the vents, a notebook filled with his scribbles sitting on his lap, "they have to figure this is an ambush."

Quicksilver frowned then looked over at Rogue who gave him a 'he's right' shrug.

This was going to be a long night.

…

"Doing another sweep of the second floor," Bobby told everyone as he checked out a conference room.

As he shuffled down the hallway, he started to hum a tune while patting his jeans like a drummer. "Should have brought my ipod."

"_We can hear you_," Kitty said.

"Hey," he stopped, "think if you turned on the satellite radio Jean could pipe it through?"

"_Don't even think about it_," the red head shut that down.

"Damn," he shook his head and crossed an open area of cubicles to get to the elevator.

There was something, a little bristle of noise, he barely heard it over his own footfalls. Stopping and turning, all he could see was empty workspaces and the light hum of computers left on overnight.

A hot breeze put chills down his neck and his stomach dropped.

Slowly he turned back towards the hallway, only to find his view blocked by a tall muscular man with shaggy blonde hair and lots of teeth… lots of very sharp teeth.

Letting out a yelp he jumped back and threw up an ice barrier of at least two inches thick.

Within seconds, Sabretooth, it had to be Sabretooth, crashed through the ice, sending shards flying in every direction.

The raging beast let out a long snarling howl… and Bobby did the only thing he could think to do…

He ran.

…

Scott walked up to Jean who as looking at the tablet, "How long?"

"Almost there, just another min—" she lurched slightly, as did the rest of them.

"_What just happened?_" JP asked.

"_Sabretooth, Sabretooth, SABRETOOTH!_" was all they heard coming from Bobby.

"Damnit," Scott thought quickly, trying to ignore the fact that the lesser congenial feral mutant had somehow snuck onto the second floor without any of them knowing, "Logan, what's your status?" No answer, "Wolverine?!"

"Done," Jean said and started to unplug Nimrod from the system.

"Storm, help Bobby," he told the woman, "I'll go with Jean to get Nimrod out."

The Weather Witch nodded, but just as she turned towards the door, the room started to fill up with living fire.

"Pyro," Jean said, trying to reach out and control the fire, but it literally filled up every empty space beyond the servers themselves, "there's too much of it."

"He is easy enough to deal with," Storm reached out and shot a lightning bolt directly at one of the sprinkler heads.

It popped with a few sparks, but nothing happened.

"They turned off the sprinkler system," Scott was looking every which way, keeping Jean and Nimrod just behind him, "Kitty, can you turn it back on."

"_Working on it_," she said back.

The fire only continued to grow.

…

"_Help… me…_" Bobby's voice was cracked and panicked.

"On my way," JP was outside the building when everything started to go down. In an instance he was zipping around to the entrance, heading towards the stairwell to go upstairs. When he hit the landing, rounding around to the next set of stairs, a mass flew into his way.

At that speed, the sudden impact counteracted on his forward momentum and literally brought him to a screeching halt, his body flying backwards into the wall.

It was only thanks to his endurance and speed he was able to reach out and grab the wrists of his attacker. She had a fair amount of strength in her frame, and he managed to lock one arm above their heads while he kept the other across their bodies, nearly choking themselves.

"Well, ain't this cosy," the Southerner drawled as her hips and legs were locked against his to keep him from getting any purchase against the ground, or to move in any way, really.

As he struggled to get free of her hold, she laughed, "You speedsters are all the same, rely too much on your speed, but once you know the trick," she grunted slightly as he nearly managed to get his leg free only to have her move and twist his leg, "it's really a simple thing to get past."

"Can't stay like this forever," he said back through gritted teeth, trying to think of another way to get loose without freeing up one of her hands to absorb him.

"You could always give me a little kiss," she said sweetly, "you take a nice little nap. I promise you it'll be worth it."

"Sorry," he tried again but his leg was so twisted he feared something was going to break, "you're not my type."

"Aw," she pouted, "don't like your females strong and independent?"

"Nah," he relaxed a little, trying to approach this like a Chinese finger trap, "don't like them female."

It took her a second, "Oh," she shrugged, "fair enough."

…

"They must have disconnected the system manually," Kitty was feverishly typing away at her laptop, "and there goes the freaking cameras," she said as everything went dark, she was literally five seconds away from throwing the thing out the window.

"Guys," she looked out the front of the Escape, she could just see the building in the distance, "what can I do?"

No one said anything.

"Guys?"

* * *

**1X01 – Sentinel – Act IV**

Bobby lay on the floor in a heap, one hand trying to hold off a nasty pair of claws, the other pulling at another set which was latched around his throat.

"Hard to concentrate when you can't breathe," the man snarled with perhaps a touch of glee.

A gurgle noise was Bobby's only response as he focused on breathing while his Adam's Apple was being crushed against his windpipe.

Tears streamed out of the sides of his eyes and he didn't care, his legs kicked pointlessly against his attacker, he couldn't summon a bit of ice to save his life.

This couldn't be it… but he guessed it was…

There was a long growl and suddenly Bobby could breathe again, the weight of the brute being ripped off of him. Grabbing his sore throat, he turned to the side and tried to calm his breaths which were coming in near-hyperventilating pants.

A few feet away, he could see Wolverine squaring off with Sabretooth, his adamantium claws glistening in the light.

"About time you showed up," Sabretooth snarled, "Jimmy."

"Told you never to call me that," Wolverine nearly shouted, lunging into the taller mutant, his metal claws ripping straight through the mutanta's shoulder.

Sabretooth howled and literally latched onto the other man with his own claws. The two began to go at it with no mercy, blood gushing at the distinct sound of tearing flesh.

Bobby rolled over and focused on just trying to breath.

…

Scott wiped his brow as the temperature started to increase in the room.

"He's over there," Jean pointed to one edge of the room, "he's mentally blocking me."

"Well then," Storm gave a little frown, "we fight fire with fire."

Taking a few steps forward, Storm reached out with both arms, splaying them wide. After a moment, they could feel the wind pick up in the room, a current which was cross current to the direction the flames were naturally running.

Storm's hair began to fly wild as the elements gathered to her.

Howling torrents of air swirled around, cutting into the fire, choking it of oxygen as it was ripped from Pyro's mental grasp.

They saw the flame-happy mutant standing in front of the open door they had come through, frowning as the last wisp of fire blew itself out in front of him.

"Aw," he tried to catch the wisp but it dissolved into nothing, "oh well," he grinned, "made you look."

Before Scott could react, another barrel of wind blew past, knocking him to the side as it crossed between him and Jean.

"Hey!" she shouted and Scott realized the backpack with Nimrod had been ripped from her hands.

Pyro was dragged at super speed through the door which was quickly shut.

"Damn it," Scott ran towards the door, "Storm, find Bobby, make sure he's okay. Jean, with me. JP, you there?"

"_A little indisposed_," the Canadian replied.

"Well, get undisposed," Scott was already in the hall, figuring Quicksilver would want to get out of the building ASAP. "They have Nimrod."

"_I'm okay_," Bobby's weak words only put everyone a little at ease.

"This way," Jean pointed down to the right and he followed her lead, they couldn't let the Acolytes have Nimrod, at any cost.

…

"Okay," Rogue grimaced, "this is actually starting to get uncomfortable."

"Only starting?" the man raised a single brow.

"Having an off day," she replied nonchalantly.

Jean-Paul Beaubier was bigger than her, tall and muscular, but she knew all the right ways to tweak his pressure points. He didn't have super strength like his sister, he could be contained…

Suddenly he went completely limp, risking letting go of her hands long enough to grab her shoulder and push her. Rogue tried to swipe his face as she got her hand free, and it would have worked if the man didn't have super speed.

Instead she only managed to grab his leg as he twisted away.

He kicked at her with his other foot and she grabbed it as well, the two of them flopping over. Rogue landed on her back, the wind knocking out of her lungs.

The man pulled free and instantly, Rogue was on her own two feet, not sure if he had run away or—

Rogue was thrown back against the wall, knocking her head against the concrete enough to make the world spin. As she slid to the floor, she knew she had to keep awake, but she really just wanted to sleep, maybe this time she wouldn't dream.

…

Jean could sense where Quicksilver and Pyro where, but she could nothing to break into their minds and stop them, at least not without hurting them, severely. Pyro had anti-telepath training and Quicksilver's thought processes simply worked too fast for her to keep up.

The two teachers ran into to the foyer of the building where the guard was tied up, wide awake and seemingly dumbstruck.

That's when the ceiling started to collapse.

Reaching up with her telekinesis, she only thought one word: PUSH.

The falling concrete and wires began to float almost gracefully above their heads.

"Avalanche," she had wondered where the other Acolytes were, "go Scott, I got this."

The man looked at her, then the guard, and after a second, nodded.

Scott bounded through the open door down the entrance hall and Jean set about moving all the debris so that it would fall without either crushing them or causing even more instability with the rest of the second floor.

The last thing they needed was the whole building collapsing in on itself.

…

"Rogue," Quicksilver said into his ear piece, "come in, Rogue."

"That's not good," Pyro frowned as they stood a little ways down the street with Avalanche, their stolen car parked against the curb.

"We've secured Nimrod, get it back to base," their leader handed over the backpack, "I'll find Rogue."

"What about the kitty cat?" Pyro asked, tossing it in the backseat of the car through the open window.

"He can take care of himself," they detected no hint of worry for the feral mutant.

Quicksilver disappeared and Pyro turned to his friend, "I wanna drive."

"You don't have a valid license in any country," he replied blandly.

"Dude," Pyro blinked, "priorities."

If they had been paying just a little more attention to the street, they would have noticed the SUV coming down the road. Well, to be fair, they did notice it, in their peripherals, but it didn't really click that it was the same make and model as the one the X-Men left with the phasing mutant. Nor did it occur to them that it was speeding up.

They noticed it about the time the SUV crashed into their car at maybe fifty miles an hour, causing the car to flip onto its side and rest against the brick building they just happened to parked beside. The backpack with Nimrod was ejected from the backseat through the window and it slid across the ground into the street.

"Oi!" Pyro was flat on his rear on the pavement after diving out the way, spotting the young girl at the wheel, "Sheila! You nuts?!"

She poked her head out of the window, "Bobby's gonna kill me."

Then they both laid eyes on the backpack.

…

Bobby managed to pull himself off of the floor, his throat feeling sore, he knew it had to be bruised.

"You alright," Storm was next to him, one hand on his arm as she surveyed him for damage.

"Better than those two," the words came out scratchy as he gestured over to where Wolverine and Sabretooth were still dukeing it out, their clothes near ripped to shreds, "there some bad blood there or something?"

"Something," she frowned, then with a heavy sigh she started to walk towards them.

"Ah, Ro," Bobby reached out to grab her, the fighting feral beasts was too dangerous to approach, but she had already walked out of his reach.

"She'll be fine," JP was suddenly next to him. Where was all this help five minutes ago?!

Storm took a long, deep breath as she compressed her hands together, creating a ball of plasma lightning. She pushed out and sent it directly at Sabretooth. It was such a powerful strike it sent him flying sideways straight through a window, landing outside with a sickening thud.

If he hadn't been a healer, it would have killed him.

Logan wasn't spared from the shock of electricity, but it was only enough to put him on his knees as his body patched itself up.

"I had him," Wolverine growled at her.

"Sure you did, Logan," she crossed her arms and looked down at him sadly, "just like every other time."

…

Scott ran out of the building, knowing he was well behind the speed mutant and didn't have much of a chance of recovering Nimrod.

He could hear shouting down the road as well as the creaking of metal. In the distance he could see Bobby's SUV, one of the front lights busted out, but it still shone on two people.

"Give it!" Kitty was shouting as she was playing keep-away with Pyro, the mutant holding the bag with Nimrod in it high above his head and out of the smaller girl's reach.

"Dom!" the Aussie shouted at his teammate who had just turned the car right side up, "forget the Buick, hotwire the Ford!"

"Do I look like Rogue?!" he shouted back, ripping the door off the hinges as it was too damaged to open normally.

Knowing he had to get Nimrod away from the Brotherhood Acolytes, Scott continued to run forward, shouting Kitty's name. Once he had her attention, he brought his hand to his visor and she got the hint, turning herself intangible.

Pyro looked over his shoulder, "Ah, hell."

Letting out a blast angled at the man's feet, the pyromaniac dived to the side in order to keep from getting caught in the blast. It didn't affect Kitty who snatched Nimrod from him and began running towards Scott with it, returning to a solid state.

A pot hole opened up in the ground under Kitty's feet and she fell with a shout.

"Kitty!" it didn't' look very deep but there was no way to really know.

Scott was almost to her, taking a potshot at Avalanche to distract him from creating any more damage. Then something hit Scott's back and he tripped, crashing to the ground. Glancing up he saw Rogue suddenly appear, leaning against the Acolyte's car. Kitty was trying to crawl out of the hole but was thrown back again.

"You had one job!" Quicksilver was standing above the pothole, the backpack with Nimrod in his hand, giving his crew and incredible look.

There was a blur of light and the speedster went out of focus for a few seconds, only to reappear with JP standing behind him, one arm around the Acolytes' neck, the other with a death grip on his outstretched arm which still had a hold of the backpack. Quicksilver had one arm caught under JP's, keeping him from being able to pull the sleeper hold.

The other Acolytes where rushing forward to help their leader, Pyro already beginning to create a trail of fire. A quick glance behind Scott showed Jean and Bobby exiting the building, too far away to be of any help. If Quicksilver got free, he would be gone. They might be able to fight the others, but Nimrod would be in the hands of the Brotherhood, along with all the data the government had on mutants, known and unknown.

He couldn't shoot the two speedster's directly, that might kill Quicksilver.

If he shot at their feet, there was no guarantee Quicksilver would drop Nimrod.

Taking a deep breath, Scott opened his visor to fire a pinpoint beam, directly at Nimrod.

…

After making sure the building would not collapse, nor would the guard get hurt, or remember much of what just happened, Jean headed outside, being joined by JP and Bobby. They made it outside in time to see Quicksilver take Nimrod from Kitty, to which JP zipped ahead and attempted to take the A.I. lattice back.

Not even a minute of time went by, but it was quite clear that with JP outnumbered by the Acolytes who were about to attack him, and Scott and Kitty on the ground, the team leader made a split decision and shot an optic blast at the backpack.

Nimrod was struck dead on, ripped from Quicksilver's hand and flew sideways through the air to hit the building across the street.

Silence deadened the night as everyone simply paused, watching as the pack fell to the ground and tumbled five times before coming to a stop. Even at that distance she could hear the crunching sounds of metal and glass.

"You destroyed it!" Quicksilver shouted at Cyclops.

Scott glanced between the speedster and the broken A.I., not saying a word.

"Fall back," the white haired man shouted, this time at his team, then proceeded to fight his way out of JP's grasp, running off down the street in a streak of silver light, followed by JP.

The Acolytes backpedaled to the damaged Buick, piling in quickly. They drove away, tires squealing, just as Jean and Bobby made it to Scott who was helping Kitty out of the pothole.

"My baby," Bobby stumbled towards the Escape which was now sporting a crunched front fender and a missing headlight.

Jean jogged over to the backpack, opening it to find nothing but a jumbled mess of twisted circuits and wires.

…

"I will never do anything like that again," Kitty followed Bobby into the hallway of the mansion, "I don't even know why I did it in the first place. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"The whole front is going to have to be replaced," he didn't seem mad, more like in quasi-denial.

"And I will totally pay for that," she assured him but he didn't even look like he was listening to her.

"I just had her detailed," he shook his head and continued walking down the hall.

Kitty went to follow but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Give him time," Ororo said in her rich and soothing voice.

"He's never going to forgive me," Kitty lamented, she really felt awful.

"He will," the woman assured her, "because that is not what is truly bothering him right now."

Kitty glanced up at the regal woman.

"Bobby nearly lost his life tonight," the headmistress spoke gravely and instantly Kitty's eyes went back to Bobby who was ascending the stairs, the bruising around his neck visible. "He is strong, he will get through this, he has his family here to help him."

Frowning, Kitty chewed on her lip, unsure what to do or what to say. How could she help him when she didn't really understand what had happened to him? Had she too gotten in over her head?

Shouting echoed down the hall, Scott and Logan going at it.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" when they entered the study, Scott was nose to nose with the feral mutant. Jean and JP were standing at one of the tables with Doug who was looking over the bits and pieces of Nimrod.

"What I want isn't some pansy faced kid making arbitrary decisions," he growled back.

"I didn't see you stepping up to take charge when I put this team together," Scott wasn't budging.

Logan sniffed and clenched his fist, "Maybe I should have."

"Give the kid a break, Logan," JP sounded like he'd had enough of it, a sentiment echoed in everyone's faced, "Scott made the right call. The Acolytes won that round. Destroying Nimrod was the only way to keep all that data out of their hands."

"Yeah," Scott crossed his arms, "just how did Sabretooth get past you in the first place?"

"He ain't a fool," the shorter man shot back.

"Bobby nearly died," Scott poked one finger at the mutant's chest, "and it would have been your fault!"

That was the last straw. The Wolverine's claws came out as he rose his fist, the adamantium blades only inches from the optic mutant's face.

Kitty covered her mouth in a gasp.

"Logan," Ororo's voice barreled through the room.

Scott didn't move, but without seeing his eyes because of his visor, Kitty wasn't sure if he was standing him ground because of stubbornness, fear, or a lack thereof.

With a low rumble, Wolverine retracted his claws, giving everyone in the room a glance before backing off and stalking out the door.

"This too will pass," Ororo spoke once Wolverine had disappeared, "Sabretooth gets to him and you only made it worse. You should understand this by now."

Scott opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but instead worked his jaw for a second before turning to Doug, "Is it salvageable?"

"Ah," the young man blinked, the lattice seemingly forgotten in his hand, "well, um, the components are prototype, hand built specifically for the lattice. I could rebuild it, but it would take… a while."

"And the information?"

"Considering the energy pulse that is a part of your optic blast," Doug frowned, "anything that was on here is either gone or going to be really corrupted. I'll salvage what I can."

Scott nodded, rubbing his chin for a second, "Alright, do that, I'll call Fred and set up a time to give him Nimrod. It's a shame we lost it but at least Magneto didn't get his hands on it, so that's a win."

"Bobby, Logan, Nimrod," Ororo asked into the air, "a Pyrrhic victory?"

The thrum of Wolverine's bike could be heard tearing its way down the front drive.

Scott sighed, "I really hope not."

…

Val surveyed the damage done to the foyer of the building, there was a hole in the ceiling but the debris was neatly shoved against one wall.

"What did the guard have to say?" she asked one of the men in black suits, part of an early response team from Homeland Security.

"He can't be sure," he read from his notepad, "says the whole thing is really blurry, like when he thinks about it just kinda slides away from him."

"The telepath," Val frowned, those types always made her job a little harder.

"He knows it was a group who attacked him," the agent continued, "said he was definitely knocked out at one point."

"Like the other guard?" she asked, heading back towards the exit.

"No," the man let out an incredulous laugh, "he was still asleep when first responders got here, snoring up a storm."

"I don't doubt that," she rubbed her forehead, "and the servers weren't damaged?"

"Several overheated," he flipped his notepad to another page, "but nothing irreparable. The upstairs offices though are going to need a complete redecoration. There has to be some bodies somewhere with all the blood we found up there."

"No, there doesn't," she pursed her lips then shook her head, "alright, give what you need to the media and then classify everything else."

"As always, ma'am," he nodded and she left him to get back to his work.

"A.D. Cooper," she was met outside by a familiar face.

"Agent Wilcox," Val gestured for him to follow her, "how did this happen?"

"The NSA completely dropped the ball on this one," he told her as they headed over to the mobile command trailer, "they noted the vehicle leaving but no one followed."

"Typical," she tried really hard not to roll her eyes.

"But I now think I know how we can use them to our advantage," he gave her a light smile, "you'll have my report by 8am."

"Good," she glanced out over the huge pothole in the street, "because I don't see this doing anything but escalating."

…

Scott was looking for JP and was told he was outside. He headed through the study and found him standing next to the open French doors, talking to Jean.

"I'll talk to the Professor," the woman told the speedster as they both looked down the length of the large, stone patio, JP's sister Jean-Marie sitting in one of the covered lawn chairs in a rather modest summer dress reading one of the many books from the library, "and if it is true, it'll have to be approached delicately."

"I just want her better," JP turned his head back to Jean, then noticed Scott, "Hey."

"Didn't mean to interrupt," he told the man.

"It's fine," Jean smiled and moved back through the doors, "I have to meet Betsy anyway. I'll see you at dinner, JP."

Scott watched her as she left, oblivious to the fact JP started to smirk as he looked between them.

"Just ask her out already," the Canadian spoke as if he was tired of saying it, even though this was the first time Scott had heard him do so.

"It's not like that," he immediately defended himself, but after seeing the entirely unimpressed look on JP's face, he tried, "and even if it was, she's a co-worker."

"Really," still unimpressed, "that's the excuse you're going with?"

"It would be inappropriate," Scott knew he was being entirely too defensive, it wasn't… well… he did like her… "and even moreso since I became team leader."

"Maybe if this was a normal school and we were a rugby team," JP grinned, "but come on, the woman can read your mind. The fact she hasn't slapped you yet should be a glaring red neon sign… oh, wait… red..."

Now Scott was sporting the unamused look as JP grinned.

"Ah, you make it too easy," the speedster chuckled.

Shaking his head, "I just came out here to say thanks… for sticking up for me."

"It was a tough call," the man shrugged, "good or bad you stuck to your principles."

"I destroyed Nimrod," he frowned, creasing his brow behind his ruby specs.

"No," JP said plainly, "you protected your fellow mutants, even the bad ones. I could have taken the hit from your optic beam but Blondie, we're talking massive internal injuries, and you knew that, which is why you sacrificed Nimrod for his safety, even if he, or Logan, won't see it that way," he gave a light laugh, shaking his head, "this is why you're team leader by the way."

Scott wasn't sure what to say, he hadn't quite thought of it on those terms, but now that JP laid it out in front of him, "Thanks."

"Don't sweat it," JP gave him a light pat on the shoulder, "teams are like shoes, got to wear them a bit before they justify the outrageous price tag."

"That's… comforting," he scrunched his brow, "considering we've already lost the laces."

"Yeah, stick to math," JP frowned, "metaphors aren't your thing. And anyway, Wolverine will be back. He's an old man trying to break old habits, and stubborn, but he's Canadian, so he'll do the right thing."

Scott let out an involuntary laugh.

"Anyway," JP looked back over his shoulder to sister, "I told Jeanne-Marie I'd take her into town. Catch you around."

"About Jeanne-Marie," Scott stopped him before he turned away, "it's none of my business, but is everything okay?"

"What do you mean?" he tried to hide the suspicion in his voice.

"I heard you talking to Jean," he admitted, "sorry."

"Just stuff," JP played it off and Scott didn't push it any farther.

A lot of the kids were playing out in the lawn, Ororo could be heard humming as she watered her garden, and he could hear Jean and Betsy laugh as they walked down the hall inside the building.

He knew he did the right thing. It wasn't what he had wanted, but it was what had been right.

He would always do what was right.

* * *

**1X01 – Sentinel – Tag**

Deep inside the Pentagon several high ranking members of Homeland Security, NSA, FBI, Joint Chiefs, CIA, and about a dozen other acronyms, sat at a conference desk in a fairly well lit room. Valerie mused to herself, when she watched movies as a kid and dreamed about becoming a spy she always imagined every meeting would take place in some darkly lit, smoky room, buried into a mountain. This might as well have been a K-Mart share-holder's meeting.

"Thank you everyone," she offered them a polite smile as the last of the men, and a couple of women, sat down, "I've called this meeting of the Council for Super Human Affairs in order to discuss recent events regarding the mutant situation."

"We get your reports, Miss Cooper," a man dressed in the military uniform of the Army did not look too impressed as he glanced through the hard copy report that was left at every seat, "what's changed to prompt an emergency meaning?"

"Yes," a dark haired gentlemen who was a director from DARPA, or the Defense Advance Research Planning Agency, said wryly, "we know the Brotherhood stole Nimrod and some of the Sentinel software. We were given the impression this wasn't a problem," he looked pointedly down the room at the man at the end of the table.

"The Brotherhood's threat level has been increased due to recent activities, yes," Val hit the controls for the video screen behind her to turn it on, "but I've called this meeting because the Brotherhood is no longer the only group we have reason to believe constitute a serious threat to national security."

When the image from the school's website popped up, there were mixed reactions from the table, the Army man speaking up first, "I thought Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning was listed as a minimal threat?"

"It was," she nodded as she tucked a bit of blonde hair behind her ear, "and until recently it operated as a neutral haven for mutants. We've largely let it operate without interference because while at the school, any possible destructive or security threats a mutant's powers may pose are contained there."

"Wait," the DARPA man spoke up, "haven't some individuals from the school been getting into skirmishes with the Brotherhood? That doesn't sound contained."

"That's why Xavier's was a minimal threat, not a zero threat," Val pointed out to him before continuing, "and those skirmishes were largely one-sided. However, it's now come to our attention that a strike force has been assembled using the school as a base. Already they are responsible for some of the damage that occurred at Bastion Industries' Newark office, the M-TAM Bridgeport facility, and the recent attack on the mutant database storage facility in New Jersey."

"A strike force?" a woman asked from near the end of the table. "Is this like some kind of a mutant S.E.A.L. team?"

"That's the way it's looking, for the moment," Val brought up images of several mutants, a few taken from surveillance photos but a couple looked like they were from a driver's license. "We believe this to be the Xavier team and their actions have been directly against the Brotherhood. It's too early to tell if containment of the Brotherhood will be their primary goal or if they are merely clearing the way to take their place."

"Some of them are just kids," the DARPA man said.

"We're not entirely sure of the group dynamic," she brought three faces forward, "but we've already known these three to have been involved in past incidents with the Brotherhood. Former Canaidan Weapon X solider, James Howlett, aka Logan, aka Wolverine. He has a healing factor, enhanced senses, and augmented skeletal structure. Ororo Munroe, aka Storm, American born, raised in Egypt, and current headmistress of the Xavier Institute. She can control the weather and related elements. Also, Scott Summers, aka Cyclops, American, son of Air Force pilot Captain Christopher Summers, deceased. His mutation is an optic concussion blast."

"They were involved in the incident in New Mexico, last year," the woman at the end of the table said.

"Yes," she nodded, "they've had only marginal success against the Brotherhood, but it seems they want to change their luck." Val clicked a button and the screen showed the new members of the strike team. "Jean Grey, of yes, _those_ New York Grey's, she's a rare combination of telepathy and telekinesis. Jean-Paul Beaubier, former solider of Canada's Department H, code name Northstar, invulnerability and endurance which allows super speed. Robert Drake, from Long Island, a cryokinetic, can affect temperatures and create ice. Katherine Pryde, Chicagoan, intangibility, can phase through solid masses."

"Nice variance," the Army man said appreciatively, "working in synch would make them quite formable."

"Against who," the woman asked, "the Brotherhood or the US Government?"

"Both," the DARPA man answered.

"Their actions have been primarily against the Brotherhood," Army replied.

"For what, the past week?" the lady scoffed at him.

"As I said, it's too early to tell at this time," Val broke up the argument before it could start, "but the military hasn't been having much luck against the Brotherhood either," she tried keep her tone neutral, "and the last thing we want is to let wild all the mutants currently contained to the Institute," a possibility she had an action plan for but did not want to put into effect, "so I believe our best course of action is to wait this out, gather as much information we can about the X-Men while working on getting Sentinel online."

"X-Men?" one of the others asked.

"Yes," she realized she hadn't had a chance to mention this, "according to the chatter we've picked up, Xavier's strike team is called the X-Men."

That was met by silence until the Army man said, "Well, I've heard worse."

Val ignored him and addressed the man who was at the very end of the table, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. "Colonel Trask, what's the timeline for Sentinel?"

The older, pale faced man took a long breath as he considered those he was sitting with, "The damage was considerable, we've been set back at least a year."

"That's unfortunate," the DARPA lady said, "you should allow our Dr Silvercloud in on the project."

"Not when we have no assurances where the man's loyalties lay," Trask said pointedly.

"His threat level is listed as negligible," she countered.

"I'm not trusting Sentinel in the hands of a mutie," he replied darkly and there was a wave of murmurs across the room.

"Colonel," Val once again was there to keep the peace, "we all know your position on mutants as a whole so please keep the council updated on Sentinel's progress. The program is important but you'll agree not the only weapon in our arsenal."

After a moment the man gave her a nod and the subject was dropped.

Val waited a moment before continuing on, "Mutants have presented a clear and present danger to the security of this country from the moment they became known to us. Individuals such as Charles Xavier have attempted to assure us that despite mutant's extraordinary abilities, we should consider them harmless. With the formation of his X-Men, it seems he's had second thoughts on the matter."

"He could just be trying to stop the Brotherhood," the Army man pointed out. "Magneto was a friend of his once, right? Wouldn't you try to stop a friend if you thought they were on a path of self-destruction?"

"If they were a drug addict needing to go into rehab," the DARPA lady said, "sure, but a whole strike team to pummel his Acolytes? This seems a bit excessive for someone spouting peace."

"Really," he frowned at her, "after everything Magneto has done? I doubt staging an 'intervention' would help."

"As I said," Val interrupted the snickers from the comment, "we don't have enough information to do anything but raise the threat level of the school, specifically the X-Men. I vote you continue to work on our mutant-defense projects while my team and I monitor the situation. Having someone else fight our battle against the Brotherhood could be beneficial, but if we see the X-Men deviating from that goal then we can react accordingly. All those in favor?" There was a murmur and several hands went up.

"Any opposed?" No one did.

"Very well," she smiled at them, calling the meeting to a close, the members filing out the room, except for a sandy-brown haired man in a suit who approached as she packed up her things.

"A.D. Cooper," he held out his hand, "Frank Lowell, CIA, I just took over my predecessor's role on the Council. We haven't had a chance to speak directly yet."

She took his hand, "Yes, Agent Lowell, that's mostly been my fault. The surge of activity lately has kept me busy."

"I know, I've read the reports," he said appreciatively, "and the backlog. It's amazing what we've been able to keep from the public."

"That's my job," and she was rather good at it, so if he was going to question her ability to do her job…

"Yes, and a good thing too," he mused, "if the reactions from some of the council members are to be any judge."

"Trask?" Val waved the thought away, "He's the only true anti-mutant on the council, the rest of us are just here to do our job and protect the public from menaces like Magneto, and now possibly Xavier."

"Right," Lowell nodded, "does Magneto really think mutants, homo-superior you said he calls themselves, that they truly will take over and replace homo-sapiens?"

"Our biologists are still trying to decide if homo-superior is indeed a separate evolutionary step from homo-sapiens," she shrugged, "but as for Magneto… yes, he does believe he and his kind are superior and believes they should take their place at the top of the food chain."

He gave her a thoughtful stare, "And what do you believe, Agent Cooper?"

"I believe…" she considered her words carefully, "that regardless of biology and semantics, Magneto is a terrorist who supports mass genocide and Xavier is an unknown quantity with a virtual army at his disposable at that school. Both are threats to the security and safety of this country… and I'll do anything in my power to stop them."

* * *

_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**_

* * *

**On the next episode of **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series…**_

— "_Don't mind Jubes, she's not a morning person, especially on Mondays."_ – Meg

—"_Mondays are a fascist invention." -_ Jubilee

—_"The FBI and NSA have agents on the ground in Philly looking for the Acolytes."_ – Scott

—_"Pre-history is before the written record?"_ – Jubilee  
_"Good, and when did pre-history end?"_ – Storm  
"_About the time Logan was born?"_ – Jubille

_—"Let's see, C4 or Semtex… C4 or Semtex…"_ – Pyro  
_"Semtex, always Semtex._" – Avalanche

—_"Oh yeah, it's a great school," as soon as the words slipped from Jubilee's mouth, a loud 'woosh' could be heard from the South wing, "but it's not without its quirks," the next thing Sharon knew, something, maybe someone, went crashing out of a window, sailing across the lawn with a loud screech._  
_Mouth agape, Sharon turned to Jubilee to ask just what the heck was that, and what should they do, but the girl was digging out the last of her ice cream before saying, "You get used to it."_

_**Episode 1X02 – Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix**_

* * *

**1X01 – Sentinel**

Written by JayCee

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee  
Executive Producer – JayCee  
Co-Producer – Chellerbelle

This is an unofficial fan fiction. It is not sponsored, licensed, or approved by Marvel Characters, Inc, Marvel Studios, Marvel Entertainment, 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, Fox Broadcasting Company, Ford Motor Company, or any other entities which may receive direction mention.

"X-Men" is a registered trademark of Marvel Characters, Inc.

All original content Copyright © 2012-2013 JayCee and xmenthefanficseries DOT com

All trademarks are properties of their respective owners.


	4. 1X02 - Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix

**Author's Note: **Thanks again! In answer to Beeky, posts will be once a week on Sundays like a regularly broadcasted TV series. There will be a two week break after episode 1X05 and a winter mid-season break after 1X11. There are 22 episodes in the first season, counting the pilot.

Also, I changed the name of Sharon Smith to Sharon Silver because another Smith will be showing up in the story and I thought Silver was a better surname for Sharon.

* * *

**Episode #: **1X02  
**Episode Name: **Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix

**Summary: **A new student arrives at Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning giving a look into the lives of the younger students. Scott, Jean, and Bobby follow a lead to Philadelphia.

* * *

**Previously… on **_**X-Men: The Series**_

_—"Magneto will continue to escalate until he's given the government no choice but to declare war on the Brotherhood." – Storm_

_—"Somehow I doubt Magneto would hire me to deliver to a fifteen-year-old." – Courier_

_—"We're not thieves." – Scott_  
_"Then why did we steal it in the first place?" – Jean_  
_"Borrowed…"_

_—"Whatever makes you sleep at night, oh wait, you don't." – Sabretooth_

_—"And what do you believe, Agent Cooper?" – Lowell_

_—"I keep telling you, lighting it on fire' is not a legitimate strategy." – Avalanche_

_—"Wolverine will be back. He's an old man trying to break old habits." – Jean-Paul_

_—"Sabretooth, Sabretooth, SABRETOOTH!" – Bobby_

_—Taking a deep breath, Scott opened his visor to fire a pinpoint beam, directly at Nimrod._

_—"I believe… that regardless of biology and semantics, Magneto is a terrorist who supports mass genocide and Xavier is an unknown quantity with a virtual army at his disposable at that school. Both are threats to the security and safety of this country… and I'll do anything in my power to stop them." – Cooper_

_—"X-Men, they call themselves the X-Men." – Rogue_

* * *

**1X02 – Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix – Teaser**

"Welcome to Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning," a tall woman with beautiful dark skin, high cheekbones, and stark white hair, greeted them in the entrance hall of the mansion, a real, freaking mansion!

"My name is Ororo Munroe," the woman continued, offering her hand to the girl's parents, "I'm the Headmistress of the School. We spoke on the phone, Mr Silver."

"Yes," Sharon's father shook hands with Miss Munroe, "and this is my wife, Clara."

"A pleasure," Miss Munroe said nicely, shaking her mother's hand before turning to her, "and you must be Sharon, it's so good to finally meet you."

"Hi," she said a bit shyly, which wasn't usually like her, normally she was a bundle of energy, but after the long plane ride and drive, the whole situation had become surreal. She adjusted the sunglasses on her nose and tried not to slink off.

"Sharon," the headmistress had a strong, accented voice, but it was very soft at the same time, "I'd like you to meet one of our students, Jubilation Lee," she gestured to the side where a girl stepped forward. She was about Sharon's age and had Asian features, short black hair, and a punk rocker vibe.

"Call me Jubilee, or Jubes," she was quite friendly, "and I'm gonna drag you away from the boring adults and show you all the fun stuff."

"If it's okay with yourselves," Miss Munroe gestured to Sharon's parents.

Her dad eyed the young woman warily but nodded his ascension and with that the girl, Jubilee, grabbed Sharon by the arm and lead her down the hall. "We're going to start with the cafeteria first, cause I'm starving. I'll show you where Bobby _thinks_ he hides the ice cream."

The halls were pretty much empty but then if this was a school everyone was probably in class, she would be school right now too if her parents hadn't decided to pull her out… it was for the best.

"So," Jubilee opened a door and they ended up in a large room that looked like it had been repurposed to be a cafeteria, several folding tables lining down the middle, a restaurant style kitchen built into the side, "what can you do?"

"What can I do?" she frowned at the question.

"This is what I can do," the girl grinned and held her hand up, suddenly sparks like firecrackers shot up from her fingertips and exploded like the Fourth of July.

"Wow," Sharon laughed, never having seen such a thing before, well, outside actual fireworks.

"I create plasmoids, or something like that," she shrugged, then grinned, "all I know is I was obviously born to party."

"Looks like it," she smiled, something she hadn't done in a long time. Ever since she discovered she was different, she felt like there was something very wrong with her, but here was another girl, not exactly like her, but also not exactly normal.

"Anyway," Jubilee walked into the kitchen and Sharon followed, "you don't have to tell me what your mutation is," she opened one of the deep freezers and started digging, "I understand how you might be sensitive about it, whatever it is, and that's cool, we're all in the same boat here so no pressure."

Sharon had no doubt that Jubilee meant it and that brought out the bold streak in the girl. When the firework mutant turned back with two half-pints of Rocky Road in her hand, Sharon reached up and somewhat shyly lowered her sunglasses so Jubilee could get a good look at her eyes…

"Catseye," she said upon seeing the misshapen eyes which bore a striking resemblance to those of the feline species, "that's _so_ cool!"

…

"I'd like to introduce you to the school founder, as well as one of our teachers," Ororo said as she let the Silver's into the Professor's office.

"Good afternoon," Charles said as he wheeled himself around his desk to greet the couple. "Professor Charles Xavier. I hope you've found our school to be everything we promised."

"Miss Munroe here should have been a used car salesman," Mr Silver said and Ororo resisted the urge to comment on that, she simply raised an eyebrow.

"Terry," Mrs Silver admonished him lightly before turning back to the mutants. "It certainly seems like a very nice place."

"Much too nice," Mr Silver did not hide his hostility, "something we could never afford, but you're going to just let her come here and stay? For free?"

Xavier wasn't fazed by the man, he had dealt with much worse, "We have several benefactors, some of which are former students, and they have been rather generous. Their donations plus various school grants, charters, and investments cover our operating costs, including room and board for the students as well as the work program."

"Work program," Mr Silver didn't seem to like those two words together, "sounds like child labor to me."

"Nothing of the sort," Ororo assured him. "As you have already discovered, until your daughter can control her abilities, she is unable to get work experience or earn personal spending money. These are valuable lessons in responsibility any teenager and young adult must learn along with their schooling."

"The work details are more like glorified chores," the Professor continued, the two having tag teamed this conversation before, "helping in the kitchen, cleaning, gardening, that sort of thing. We are here to give these children as normal of an environment as we possibly can."

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" he still wasn't buying it.

"We've all been there Mr Silver," Ororo let a bit of her weariness show through, "we've all needed help, and now it's our turn to provide that help to others," he seemed to warm a bit to that concept, so she continued, "please, feel free to voice any concerns you still might have," she said as non-combatively as she could, "and we'll address them to the best of our ability."

The Silver's glanced at each other, sharing that telepathy unique to long-time couples. When they were done, Mr Silver said, "When Sharon's mutation manifested a few years ago, our biggest fear was that she'd be turned into some kind of government experiment."

"We did what we could to hide the changes," Mrs Silver said, "but it's gotten more pronounced, she changes, fully, and without warning. She was... wasn't herself for three days, we thought we lost her."

"This is exactly why we're here," Xavier calmed the woman's nerves, "to help others learn how to control their mutation and to give them a sense of community."

"We won't lie," Ororo added, honesty always the better choice, "there will always be risks as Sharon carries unique DNA, and the exploitation of mutants has not been unheard of in the past, but here, at Xavier's, our number one priority is the safety of our students."

…

Jubilee showed Sharon the rec room, which was fully decked out, and then they snuck in on a class being taught by a woman with naturally purple hair. She also showed Sharon her room, which looked like a rock concert and a Shakespearean production threw up on each other. Apparently that later part was due to Jubliee's roommate who apparently had… wings?

"So," they headed through the library out onto the patio, the weather was nice and they were almost at the bottom of their little tubs of ice cream, "that's pretty much it. The teachers are pretty cool, they won't let you slack off or anything, but most of them used to be students here themselves so they're pretty understanding."

"The students became the teachers?" Sharon frowned, taking a seat on the balustrade, she liked to climb and be above everything, that was probably her 'feline dna' as she liked to call it.

"Yeah," Jubliee leaned against the barrier as she fiddled with her ice cream, "when the school started there was only a handful of students, like Scott and Jean. The student body has actually tripled since I came here three years ago."

"Three years?" for someone who was fifteen that seemed like an awful long time. "Do you like it here?"

"Oh yeah, it's a great school," as soon as the words slipped from her mouth, a loud 'woosh' could be heard from the South wing, "but it's not without its quirks," the next thing Sharon knew, something, maybe someone, went crashing out of a window, sailing across the lawn with a loud screech.

Mouth agape, Sharon turned to Jubilee to ask just what the heck was that and what should they do, but the girl was digging out the last of her ice cream before saying, "You get used to it."

* * *

_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**_

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

* * *

**1X02 – Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix – Act I**

Two individuals lay asleep in their beds. On the punk rock side of the room, Jubilee was buried inside a yellow comforter as if she was in a cocoon of which she would never emerge. In contrast, Megan Gwynn laid face down in her bed on the opposite side, her sheet of a blanket only drawn up to her waist as her fairy-like wings were left free by the spaghetti strapped night-dress she wore.

Jubilee made a snorting noise and rolled over, further entangling herself under the covers. Megan continued to snore lightly, her wings lifting and shaking gently with each breath.

The clock turned to 6:30 and let out a screeching holler. Both mutants continued to lay there, unmoving.

6:31.

The clock continued to blare at them, reminding the two that it was a school day.

Jubilee rolled over and reached up to turn the blasted thing off, but instead a spark shot from her hand and the small, cheap, digital clock gave a squeal before dying.

"Third one this month, Jubes," Megan said sleepily in her Welsh accent, shaking her wings out as she sat up.

The firecracker said something intelligible about Monday's and buried herself deeper into the comforter.

…

In the early morning the cafeteria was full of chaos. Most of the students were either lethargic or rushing. It all depended on how much they slept in and what they had to do in class that day.

Jubilee spotted the blonde girl at the end of food line, she had hoped to run into her. Grabbing a plate, Jubilee slipped in beside the girl, "Hey, Christy."

"Jubes," the girl glanced up from where she waited, plate in hand.

"Think I can take your gardening duty this week?" she asked, giving the blonde her best smile despite how tired she was.

"I guess," she shrugged, "I'm fixed for spending cash at the moment."

"Great," Jubes was happy with this turn of events. "The new special edition _House of Mavendor: The Scarlet Queen_ comes out in November, it's signed and limited edition, and Jean won't pre-order it for me with her card unless I give her the cash now. Something about not spending money you don't have."

"You spend way too much on those books," Christy gave her a wry look.

"No such thing," Jubes waved her off, "Josephine Martyr is a genius. This special edition is annotated by her, I can't wait to see what she has to say about that ending with Queen Jandamarra telling the Four Nations 'bitch please, bring it', well, not in so many words."

"Sure…" the girl wasn't terribly impressed but, "I'll let the registrar know you're taking my spot."

"Rad."

The line moved and it was Christy's turn, Kitty shoveling some scrambled eggs onto her plate.

"Hey, Kat," Jubilee smiled at her, "guess you pulled kitchen duty this week."

"Beats working fast food," Kitty laughed, giving Jubilee the same big helping of eggs. The good part about dragging into breakfast late is that you tended to get larger portions as the staff is now trying to get rid of the excess.

After she got a bottle of orange juice from the cooler, Jubilee headed over to her usual table, easily spotting Meg's pink hair and fairy wings in the semi-crowded room. She was sitting across from Sharon who was sporting a school blazer like the one Jubilee was wearing. Meg was only wearing a white blouse-looking halter top on account of her wings which were dropped down in their resting position.

Xavier's had a dress code, and uniforms, but they were hardly cast in stone.

Jubilee plunked down next to Megan and the firecracker bemoaned, "Why won't they let us drink coffee?"

…

Megan rolled her eyes and looked over at Sharon, "Don't mind Jubes, she's not a morning person, especially on Mondays."

"Mondays are a fascist invention," Jubilee started stabbing at her eggs.

"She'll be fine after first period," Meg ignored her roommate.

"That would be English, right?" Sharon picked up a piece of paper from next to her plate, "I'm not used to block scheduling. My old school was traditional scheduling, not that it matters really, I missed a lot of it last year on account of my mutation."

"Don't worry about it," the pink haired girl smiled at her, "we have the same schedule so you just stick with us. And the teachers are understanding, we've all had to miss out on some schooling when our mutations manifested," and to make her point, Meg's wings fluttered a bit.

"I didn't want to be rude," Sharon said apologetically, "but I am curious, where you born like that?"

"I had the hair and eyes," she pointed to her dark, almond shaped eyes, "but the wings came in later. They're still growing too, I'm hoping that I'll be able to use them to fly soon."

"That would be pretty cool," the new student smiled.

"I have a very light skeletal frame, less dense and hollow bones, like a bird," she continued on, her wings rising up as she got excited at the thought, "there's another mutant with big feathery wings, he has the same kind of bone structure, and he can fly, well, glide."

Sharon looked like she was about to say something but she started to hunch over, clutching at her body, "Oh no, not now."

"You okay?" Meg asked at the same time Jubilee got up, calling for Miss Munroe.

Within seconds, Sharon started to shrink, her clothes becoming bulky against her figure which began to grow thick brownish fur. By the time Storm reached their side, Sharon was now an Abyssinian house cat which looked up at them curiously amid a pile of fabric.

"That's too cool," Jubilee grinned.

…

Kitty was watching from behind the buffet server as Ororo reminded the students that they had classes getting ready to start. Seeing that the Headmistress had everything well in hand, she went back to clearing out the pans of food before she too had to get to her first class of the day.

"Hey, Kitty," Bobby appeared next to her, looking at the scene, "what's going on there?"

"New kid turned into a cat," she said easily, this not being the strangest thing that had ever happened around there.

"Oh, okay," he didn't think twice about it either. "Scott wanted me to tell you, team meeting today right after last period, apparently we got some intel on the Brotherhood."

"You know what kind of intel?" she asked as he followed her into the kitchen proper with what few leftover eggs she had.

"Not really," Bobby headed over to the freezer, "it wasn't anything urgent."

"Alright," she sat the pan down next to the sink and headed back to the table for another one, "I'll be there."

"Hey," Bobby was torso deep in the freezer, "who stole my ice cream?"

…

"Settle down class," Jubilee heard Betsy say as the last of the students filtered into the class. The telepathic woman took one look at Jubilee with Sharon in her arms and raised a single, perfectly sculpted, dark purple eyebrow. Of all the mutants, of all the people Jubilee had ever known, Betsy was perhaps the vainest about her appearance, but at least she wasn't stuck on herself, a very important distinction.

"This is Sharon Silver," Jubilee looked down at the cat she held.

"Ah, yes," Betsy offered a polite smile, "the fixed shape shifter."

"Storm said she's still aware of the world around her, can understand what we're saying," Jubilee moved aside and Meg joined her, a tote bag with Sharon's clothes in her hand, "so there's no reason she has to miss out on anything until she switches back."

"Of course," the teacher gestured for them to sit down, "you'll take notes for her won't you, Jubilation?"

"Righty-o," Jubilee smiled and they headed to their desks, sitting Sharon on the empty desk next to hers before taking her seat.

"Alright class," Betsy went to the dry erase board, "we're going to continue where we left off last week."

Jubilee watched Sharon as she glanced around and had to wonder what the girl was thinking. She was stuck in her cat form until she could will herself out of it. While it had to be cool to be a cat, it must be awkward all things considered.

Without warning or even tensing, Sharon jumped from her desk to Jubilee's then launched herself ten feet to land on the windowsill where the light shone in. After stretching out she curled up under the sunbeam but her attention was on Betsy who had noticed the girl's acrobatics with another raised eyebrow.

Okay, so maybe not all that awkward.

…

The next two classes went without incident, Sharon curling up on top of a cabinet during Scott's math class. When lunch rolled around, they all headed towards the cafeteria but were stopped by Ororo in the hallway.

"Sharon," she smiled down at the cat in Jubilee's arms, "I've had the cook prepare some boneless chicken breast for you for lunch, would you like that?"

A purring from Sharon was taken as a yes.

"I'll make sure the kitchen always keeps some on hand for you," then she said delicately, "would you like to join the others in the cafeteria," she held up her left hand, "or would you prefer to eat somewhere more private such as your room?" she held up her right.

The cat seemed to think about it for a moment, then reached out with a paw and tapped the Headmistress' left hand.

"Well then," Ororo smiled and gave the cat a little scratch behind the ear, making her purr again, "enjoy your lunch."

The three headed into the cafeteria and Jubilee sat Sharon down on the table, letting her know that she'd be back with her food. Meg was nice enough to carry Jubilee's plate while the firecracker sat two saucers in front of Sharon, one of milk and the other of shredded up chicken, both of which the cat dug into eagerly.

"Hey guys," a brown haired Venezuelan sat down at the table with them, then directed her attention to the cat, "I'm sorry I left you to fend for yourself on your first day, Sharon, kind of a sucky roommate thing for me to do but I had to get time in the computer lab before my first class."

Sharon looked up from her milk, purred, then went back to eating.

"It's cool, Sofia," Jubilee assured the girl, "we took care of her, though she really needs to have her claws trimmed," she added with a cheeky smile.

The cat's hair bristled.

"I kid!" Jubilee laughed, "I kid!"

…

After lunch was Biology with Jean Grey. It was going along as usual when Sharon suddenly hissed, back arched, tail up, making a beeline for the door, scratching at it.

Everyone sat still, not entirely sure what was happening, but Jean got that look in her eye when she was concentrating on her telepathy and said, "She's about to change back."

"Isn't she not wearing a stitch?" one of the boys asked, perhaps a bit too gleefully, and Jean gave him a disapproving look.

Jubilee was already out of her seat, taking the bag of clothes from Meg, and heading to the door, "Bathroom's on the right."

Without getting permission, even though she knew it was a given, Jubilee opened the door and Sharon raced out, Jubilee running on her heels. Sharon was already two times bigger when they got to the bathroom door which Jubilee had to open for the cat. Sharon dashed under the stalls and a few minutes later there was a bit of a thump and some hacking.

"You okay?" Jubilee asked.

"Yeah," Sharon coughed, "just a hairball."

"Oh," she wanted to laugh but clamped down on it. After figuring out which stall the girl was in, Jubes held the bag over the door, "here you go."

"Thank you," Sharon's voice was pretty small in the space.

Sensing that the girl was feeling very self-conscious, Jubilee said, "I'll wait for you."

"Okay," there was some shuffling of clothes and Sharon exited the stall, her head downcast. "I'm sorry you had to take care of me, but I am grateful."

"Don't sweat it," she said cheerfully, "made my day when you hissed at Scott's mention of functions."

That got the desired reaction of causing the girl to smile, just a bit, however her mood was still dejected, "I can't control the changing, it just, happens."

"Come on, we're teenagers," she placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, "uncontrollable body changes are part and parcel. You'll get the hang of it, and we'll help you, that's why you're here, remember?"

"I'm here because my parents dumped me here," Sharon said dejectedly, "I mean, sure, they put up a decent show, they wouldn't want me experimented on or anything, but they forget cats have really good hearing," she started to cry a bit, "they simply couldn't deal with me anymore."

"Hey," Jubilee gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, "a lot of us are in that same boat, but you can't dwell on it."

"Your parents abandoned you here too?" the girl was feeling hurt and her comment was a defense mechanism, Jubilee understood that and forgave her for it, even if did sting a bit.

"My parents are dead, actually," she admitted, "car accident. The trauma of the whole thing is what triggered my mutation a bit earlier than typical."

Sharon's head popped up, complete regret on her face, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's cool," Jubilee assured her, "you didn't know."

"Is that how you came here?" she asked, looking as if she was going to kick herself.

"Actually, I ran away from social services first," Jubilee said like it was no big thing. "Spent six months living in a mall before Storm, that's Miss Monroe, and a friend of hers found me and rescued me from what was quickly becoming a bad situation."

The shape shifting mutant thought about that for a moment, "This really is your home then?"

"Yep," Jubilee smiled, "we're one strange bunch, but we're a family and you're more than welcome to be a part of it."

"I…" Sharon attempted a smile, "thank you."

…

The last class of the day was Professor Xavier's _Mutation 101, _or at least that's what the kids liked to call it. Basically, it was where the students worked on better control of their mutations. Even those who had a pretty decent hang of it, like Jubilee, still needed work on refining it. Those whose mutations were purely cosmetic, like Meg's, learned how their biological changes affected them.

"Sharon," Professor Xavier came over to her as she sat with Sofia and Jubilee, the former attempting to keep a ball in the air by manipulating the wind pressure underneath it. She kept slipping and knocking the ball to the side which Jubilee would gleefully try to catch.

"Yes, Professor?" Sharon asked, turning towards the bald man in a wheelchair. She was told he was a telepath but not to worry because all the telepaths in the school were very polite and did not invade people's minds.

"I was wondering if you up to discussing your mutation and what happened today?" he said very gently.

"Um," she glanced around and chewed on her lip before saying, "not particularly."

"That's quite alright," he gave her a polite smile, "when you're ready," and with that he wheeled away towards another group of students.

Sharon blinked, "That's it? My parents were always pushing to know what was going on, trying to get me to stop it."

"The Professor isn't going to make you talk about something your uncomfortable with," Jubilee said, catching the ball again, tossing it up into the air for Sofia, "you'll never learn anything that way."

"Yeah," Sofia said, her eyes concentrating on the ball while her hands moved up and down as she tried to pinpoint where the wind went, "the first step to controlling your mutation is becoming comfortable with it, and you can't do that if you're constantly being pushed, poked and prodded about it."

"Totally," Jubilee agreed.

Silence passed for a few moments as Sofia continued practicing, the ball slipping again only this time flying off in the direction of Sharon who caught it in one hand with cat like reflexes. Looking at the red ball, she timidly said, "Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll forget who I am…"

"When you're a cat?" Jubilee prompted.

"Yes," she twirled the shiny ball slowly, seeing her reflection warped in the curvature, "I can understand English, I know I'm human, but I also have feline instincts. I want to climb, to hunt… it's quite fun, to run along fence tops and roofs."

"I bet it is," Jubilee said softly with a smile, "it sounds like fun."

"Have you ever tried embracing your cat form?" Sofia asked curiously, her tone gentle.

"You mean have I ever willed myself to become a cat?" Sharon clarified.

"Yeah…"

Sharon shook her head, tossing the ball back into the air and Sofia caught it with wind again on instinct, "No, I always try to fight it when it happens."

"Maybe next time," Jubilee offered, "you can just let it happen, see if it makes any difference?"

"What difference could it make?" Sharon frowned.

"One never knows," Jubilee shrugged with a smile.

…

"Alright team," Scott said as everyone, sans-Logan, gathered at the conference table, "I've been in contact with Agent Duncan, he's had some information come to his attention he thought we'd like to know about," he brought up an image from a traffic camera, Rogue and Pyro walking down a sidewalk, "this was taken two days ago in Philadelphia," then another image from what looked like a bank ATM camera, the two mutants plus Avalanche sitting at a restaurant, "and this yesterday."

"Their body language reads surveillance to me," JP offered the group, "they're watching someone or something, possibly another heist?"

"That's the government's thought too," Scott nodded, "the FBI and Homeland Security have agents on the ground in Philly looking for the Acolytes."

"They haven't had much luck capturing them in the past," Bobby pointed out.

"You know," Jean mused, gaining everyone's attention, "have we really thought about what we'd do if we managed to capture them?"

The team looked to each other, all at a loss.

"We could hand them over to the authorities?" Kitty suggested.

"Not sure they'd be able to hold them," Scott admitted, "and if they did, we could be signing up the Acolytes to be government guinea pigs."

"As much as I wish to stop the Acolytes and the Brotherhood," Ororo spoke up, "governmental experimentation is not a fate I wish upon anyone, mutant or no."

"We don't have the facilities here to be able to hold them," JP pointed out, "unless we wanted to build something?"

"No," 'Ro said before anyone could expand on this, "we are not keeping them here with the students."

"Then where?" Bobby asked, "You know, provided we actually catch them one of these days?"

"I believe the Professor may be able to take care of this," she said after a thought, "let me speak to him. At the moment though, I believe our bigger question is what are we going to do about the Acolytes in Philadelphia?"

"I thought tomorrow," Scott offered, "being that it's a school day, a couple of us can go and check things out. See if we can pick up on what they're doing, or did, they could be long gone by now."

"Last time we went on a recon mission," Jean pointed out, "we ended up stumbling onto them robbing an M-TAM facility."

"Yeah," Scott frowned, "well, what's the odds of that happening twice in a row?"

Everyone looked at each other, various looks on their faces regarding Scott's flaunt of Murphy's Law.

"So, who's going?" JP asked.

"Bobby, since he's not teaching yet," he pointed to the school's accountant, "and Jean as our resident telepath, if you can cover Jean's classes tomorrow, JP?"

"No problem," the man nodded his agreement of the setup.

"Wait," Kitty sat up, "does me being a student mean I'm always going to be excluded on school days?"

"For these kinds of missions, yes," Scott said bluntly. "As you like to point out, you'll be graduating soon, you don't want to mess that up, do you?"

"No, of course not," she said, defeated.

"Like I said, they could already be gone, but if we find anything," Scott said, "JP, you could get there faster than I could fly you, probably the same to you 'Ro."

The two mutants glanced at each other, it was likely true.

"Well, sounds like a plan," Bobby clapped his hands together and there was a general murmur of agreement.

"I'll spend some time on Cerebro tonight," Jean said, "see if I can pin-point any locations or if they've moved on."

"Good idea, but make sure you get plenty of rest tonight," Scott looked from Bobby to Jean, "we fly out at 06:00."

"I reserve the right to sleep on the plane," Bobby said quickly.

"Duly noted."

* * *

**1X02 – Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix – Act II**

Scott sat in the pilot seat of his Cessna _Citation M2_, a personal aircraft with seating for seven, including the pilot. It would just barely fit the whole team, if he could ever get the whole team together on a trip, but at this point he didn't think that would ever be an issue, especially since Wolverine hadn't come back yet.

"Bobby's snoring," Jean said as she slipped into the co-pilot's chair delicately, there wasn't exactly a lot of room.

"It's only a little over an hour flight," Scott frowned, glancing back at the younger man who was curled up in a blanket.

"I guess he'll take what he can get," she smiled, then gave a little frown, speaking quietly, "I don't think he's really slept much since the Sabretooth incident."

Scott creased his brow, then tapped his temple, "How's he doing?"

"The Professor and I haven't really intruded," she spoke as if she might have pushed some boundaries, "he's doing remarkably well, all things considered, but we're more worried that he's hiding how much it is bothering him."

"Perhaps he just needs some more time?" Scott offered weakly.

"Time isn't the cure-all everyone thinks it is, we both know he's hiding very old wounds," Jean frowned, but sensing that the subject was closed for the moment as neither of them knew what else to say, she glanced over at the controls. "One of these days you'll have to give me flying lessons."

"You want to learn how to fly?" he wasn't really surprised at the thought, he simply never heard her comment on it before.

"Yeah," she smiled at him, "it would be good to have more than one pilot on the team… and I think it'd be fun."

"True," he couldn't argue with her logic about having more pilots among them, "but lessons take up a fair amount of time."

"I won't mind," she went back at the controls, "and we can get started now with the basics, what am I looking at here?"

"Ah, actually," he reached up to a compartment over her head, having to lean in close to the woman in the cramped area, pulling down a spiral book and handing it over to her, "here you go, this might be easier."

"Ooo, it has colored pictures," she teased, flipping through the diagram laden book.

"That will help in knowing where everything is in this particular plane," he chuckled lightly at her joke, "but you'll need to know the mechanics of flying, aerodynamics, how to control pitch and yaw… you know, I'm not a qualified instructor."

"You said the same thing when the Professor asked you to teach at the school," the red head pointed out, "yet look at you now, torturing young souls with long division and osculating curves."

"That was a fun crash course in getting our teaching certificates," Scott smiled at the memory. "Good thing the Professor knows people on the New York Board of Education."

"Yeah," Jean smiled with him, "though I think you're right, I'd rather not rush pilot training."

"You know what," he settled on an idea, "I'll set you up with my old instructor, we still keep in touch, and I'll look into what it takes to get my own instructor license. Maybe we can get the whole team trained up on how to fly my baby here…" it suddenly dawned on him that other people would be touching his plane, messing with her controls… "in an emergency only, of course."

Jean laughed at him, he was as bad as Bobby and his Escape, "Of course."

…

"Hey, you hear," Jubilee sat down at the table next to Meg with Sharon and Sofia sitting across from them.

"Alison Blaire totally rocked it on American Idol last night," Meg said between gulps of her orange juice.

"Well, there's that too," Jubilee frowned, then said, "but Scott, Jean, and Bobby went out on one of their missions today."

"Huh, that means the Professor will be covering Trig II today," Sofia said as if she wasn't sure what she thought about that.

"We don't have Scott or Jean on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Meg pointed out, "tidy, no subs for us."

"But what you guys think about this though?" Jubilee asked the group of girls. "Our teachers running out playing hero against Bucket Head?"

"What are you talking about?" Sharon asked, taking a sip from her tall glass of milk. "Missions? Bucket head?"

"Long story short?" Jubilee asked.

"Please," Meg said cheekily.

"One of the founders of this school, a friend of the Professors, well, he kinda went off the deep end," was about the most polite way Jubilee could put it, "he declared war on regular humans and set up this group of like-minded mutants as an army."

Sharon nearly choked on her drink, "Excuse me, declared war? An army?"

"Pretty much," Jubilee shrugged, "from what I've been told," Meg gave her a look, "okay, from what I've been able to eavesdrop, the government has classified them as terrorists since they can't really go around saying mutants exist."

"I was wondering if the government knew about us," Sharon frowned, "I mean, how could they not?"

"Yeah, they know," Meg's wings drooped a bit, "right now they keep it quiet so as not to cause a panic, although the Professor seems to think that there's a strong possibility we can integrate with society peacefully."

"You don't sound terribly convinced of that," the shape shifting mutant pointed out.

"Not to say I agree with Magneto, but," Meg sighed, "the human race has been known to treat others different from themselves quite badly. The Jewish Holocaust is the obvious parallel but it doesn't stop there. You have the Belgians in the Congo, Americans and the Natives, Australians and the Aborigines, England and Europe with the slave trade, the warring African tribes, Cambodia and Tibet, and the list just keeps going…"

"Surely you don't think it will come to that," Sharon's cat eyes went wide, "that we'll be thrown into… oh, what are those things… internment camps? concentration camps? How could the government get away with such a thing?"

"Look at Syria," Meg shrugged, her wings rustling, "thousands are being murdered there by their own government and no one really did anything about it until they started using chemical weapons."

"What? You've have them send in a strike team and take out the corrupt government," Sofia shook her head, "that would cause even more chaos, a power vacuum worse than what happened in Eqypt. Not to mention if mutants had a hand in it, publically or no, every government would go into overdrive to 'contain' us because it shows we not only have the way but the will to take them down," she let out a gritted sigh.

"Oh, geesh," Jubilee threw her head back and bemoaned, "you two get all depressive when you talk politics."

"Yeah," Sharon laughed nervously, "all the kids ever talked about at my last school were fashion, boys, and their latest ringtone."

"We do that too," Meg assured the girl, "just, with my mutation, it makes me think about these things. I'll never be able to hide like Jubes here, or Sofia. Even you could use contacts once you get your changing under control."

"You could hide your hair under a wig and your wings in a coat," Sofia pointed out, "just like Warren does."

"And my eyes?" she gestured to their almond shape at an unnatural slant, the irises and sclera completely black.

Sofia frowned, her lips going a bit skewered, "Botched Rhinoplasty?"

"That's for the nose!" Jubilee rolled her eyes.

"Even if I could hide and cover everything," Meg pushed her plate away, not exactly hungry anymore, "I'd be doing just that, hiding, like I was leper, like there was something wrong with me."

"And there is nothing wrong with you, Megan," the pixie girl nearly jumped out of her seat at the sound of Ororo behind her, the woman placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "there is nothing wrong with any of us, mutant or human, don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."

"I know, Miss Monroe," Meg couldn't look the woman in the face.

"But sometimes it's hard to remember it," the older woman replied knowingly, "it's okay, we'll always be here to help remind you."

"Hey, yeah," Jubes started to get a bit seriously, "regular people, and Katy Perry fans, spend loads of money to get their hair dyed pink all the time, you're totally stylish!"

Everyone stared at the firecracker who glanced between them all before saying, "What?"

…

When Saint-John and Dom opened the door, the first thing they heard was the blaring music of Katy Perry's _Firework._ Giving each other a glance and shrug, they continued into the rented apartment to see Rogue sitting at the kitchen table, tapping away at her laptop, a few books strung out next to it.

The first thing John did after dropping the large duffle bag was go over to the tv and click it off. "Rogue, seriously, Katy Perry?"

"Sorry," she didn't bother to look up from what she was doing, but pointed to her temple, "was punishing a couple of voices that spoke out of turn."

"Oh, okay," Pyro nodded, at least she had a legitimate reason, "want me to turn it back on?"

"Nah," she gave a sly grin, "I think Wolverine's learned his lesson."

"Yeah, but for how long," the Australian laughed as he leaned down to zip open his bag, "let's see, C4 or Semtex… C4 or Semtex..."

"Semtex," Dom was pulling all manner of detonators and equipment from his two duffels, "always Semtex."

"Semtex it is," there was a positively evil gleam in Pyro's eyes as he stacked three bricks of the plastic explosive next to him.

"Wait, Pietro said make sure the feds stayed off our backs," Rogue looked between them and their small arsenal, "not devolve the situation into a Wile E. Coyote cartoon."

"Hey," he gave her a pointed look, "I don't tell you how to do your job when you go information gathering."

"Yes you do," she seemed rather annoyed by that fact too.

He blinked, "No I don't."

Rogue tapped roughly against her temple as if she was gesturing for him to 'think about it for a second'. He realized she was referring to the psyche of his that she carried around with her. Due to the fact she had absorbed him many more times than most, he was rather louder than the rest, more solid, but of course nowhere near as solid as the first person she ever absorbed.

"Oops," he chuckled at that, "on behalf of my psyche, I apologize."

"He's making fun of you now," she frowned, "calling you a wanker."

He lifted his head up and looked straight at Rogue's forehead, "Traitor!"

"Don't worry, Rogue," Dom was inspecting a M18A1 Claymore mine, "while you and Pietro are doing your part, Cooper and her team will be quite busy elsewhere."

"Good," she nodded, "I'd hate to have studied international patent law for the last three days for nothing."

"Why don't you just absorb someone?" Pyro asked, "I mean, I know you don't like to add to the peanut gallery if you don't have to, but a patent lawyer has got to be the most benign person in the world, Kathy Bates excluded."

"I might have to play pretend for a few hours," she frowned, "and once the absorption wears off, the knowledge goes the way of sub-continent tech support and it's not worth it."

"Once you get Pietro past the energy barriers," Dom had moved on to a couple canisters of flash bangs, "it shouldn't take him too long to locate the vault."

"Well," she went back to the computer, "you plan to keep Cooper running for at least five hours, that should give us plenty of breathing room."

"Speaking of o' speedy leader," Pyro glanced around, "where did he go yesterday?"

"That's his business," Rogue started to close up her books and computer, "he'll be here in an hour, and ready to go."

"So you do know where he's been going?" Pyro eyed her suspiciously.

"Of course," not only was she his second but she had recently absorbed him, it was hard to hide anything from the woman, Pyro knew that the hard way.

The Aussie exchanged glances with Dom, the other man asking, "Anything we should be worried about?"

"Nothing _you two_ should be worried about," she said pointedly and that was the end of that.

…

"Ugh," Jubilee laid her head on her desk, "I think they let Kitty cook the meatloaf… bad idea… baaaaaaaaaad…"

"I liked it," Sharon grinned, "though that could be the feline in me enjoying a little carnage."

"That's the spirit," Jubilee gave her a thumbs up, her head still flat against the desk.

"Class," Ororo gathered everyone's attention, "who can tell me what the dividing line between history and pre-history is?"

"Jurassic Park 3?" one of the guys piped in, sending the class to giggling.

The teacher gave him a none-too-amused look, "This is world history, Ben, not cinema history," her eyes then scanned the room. "How about you, Jubilee."

"Um," she lifted her head up to glance up at the woman whom Jubes freely called by her nickname, something only a rare few could get away with at the school, "pre-history is before the written record?"

"Good," Storm gave her a soft smile, "and when did pre-history end?"

Jubilee thought about this for a second, "About the time Logan was born?"

This set the class into another, much louder, fit of laughter, even Ororo herself failing to stifle a grin as she said, "Close, but I'm afraid much earlier than that."

"It varies?" Ben offered up after he managed to catch a breath. "Depending on when the culture in question began written records?"

"Correct," Storm nodded to him, "this occurs for most cultures somewhere in the Bronze to Iron Ages. The Great Pyramid of Egypt was built around 2560 BCE, the _Epic of Gilgamesh_ can be dated back to 2000 BCE, and the _Illiad_ to around 1190 BCE."

"Miss Monroe," Christy held up her hand and the teacher nodded at her to ask her question, "Gilgamesh was a half-god which made him really strong, right? And the gods of Mythology, they could do things like read people's minds, shape shift, fly, run fast… sounds an awful lot like mutants."

"Are you asking if mythology is actually misunderstood historical record?" Ororo looked at her thoughtfully. "That perhaps mutants were mislabeled as gods due to their seemingly supernatural abilities?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Christy nodded, a bit embarrassed at her own question. "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

"Ah, yes, Clarke's Third Law," Storm said appreciatively.

"Clarke?" Christy frowned, "I thought I was quoting Pratchett."

"And this is why you buy the annotated editions," Jubilee lifted her head to speak the words then let her head fall back down again.

Ororo gave Jubilee a wane look at the comment but continued, "It is possible mutants existed that far back. The human population was much smaller and so the likelihood of a mutation occurring could be arguably less as well. Couple that with a more supernatural minded people and instead of realizing that most mutations are a form of energy manipulation, even if it doesn't outwardly seem that way, and they could have been mistaken as gods."

"Or witches," Meg said from her seat next to Jubilee.

"Or fairies," Storm countered easily. "Our little Meg here could be a descendant of the Seely Court."

"She looks more like a pixie to me," Ben checked her out, a little too obviously.

"I'm Welsh, you dolt," she gave him an annoyed look, "not Cornish."

"There's a difference?" he asked, seemingly innocently, and Jubilee hoped for his sake that he wasn't trying to pull her chain.

"One, get a map," she told him off, her wings bristling, "two, Fae are Irish while Pixies are from Cornwall and Devon, three, I'd technically be a Tylwyth Teg, and fourth, no one asked you, you uncouth swine."

Ben threw his hands up in defeat while the rest of the class tried to figure out how anyone could pronounce Tylwyth Teg with a human tongue. Welsh was not a natural language, Jubilee decided.

"Meg," Storm admonished her gently.

"Sorry, Miss Monroe," her wings drooped as she lowered her head.

"I'll let it pass, this time, " the teacher told her, then addressed the class, "now, would everyone pull out their books and turn to chapter three."

…

Scott held the printed out copy of the photo taken of the Acolytes as they sat at the café, the scene matched up perfectly, minus the mutants. "This is the place."

Bobby was spinning on his heels, taking note of the names on the buildings, though that didn't help much, "These are all offices, hundreds of businesses, they could have been staking out any one of them."

"Or any particular person," Scott frowned, "and we can't exactly go door to door asking if anyone has had any business with the Brotherhood that they'd like to share."

"It's a bigger dead end than the other location they were spotted," Bobby sighed.

"At least we're not alone in our frustrations," Jean was looking straight forward, "though I'm not sure if that's good or bad."

"Jean?" Scott asked.

"The couple sitting at the table with the red umbrella," she said and Scott tracked his eyes towards them, trying not to be obvious about, "the blue sedan," there was a Ford Focus sitting in one of the few parallel parking spots, "the bum laid out on the bench," there was a dirty looking older man who looked to be asleep, "they're government."

"Surveillance teams," that put a wrinkle in things, "Duncan said there were agents on the ground here."

"Do they really think they can stop the Acolytes?" Bobby frowned, "I mean, they've been trying and failing as bad as you did… erm… that came out wrong."

Scott gave the man a wry look but sighed.

…

Val walked swiftly into the mobile command center which was strategically placed several streets away from the known locations the Acolytes had been spotted at.

"Bring it up," she told the guy working the keyboard as she stood over him. Seconds later, the computer screen showed three figures standing in front of a building, talking. "That's Scott Summers alright, and Jean Grey and Robert Drake. Any sign of the rest of them?"

"Back tracing using the traffic cams," the man was just another faceless NSA squint on loan to the Department of Homeland Security, "doesn't look like it."

"I have confirmation of Summers' Cessna having landed at Wings Field this morning," a woman spoke up from another station. "Three listed passengers. No flight plan scheduled for departure. Want me to ground it?"

Val thought about this for a second, "Not at this time, but keep the thought on speed dial."

Watching the live feed before her, the three mutants might as well been tourist for all their gawking. "What are you doing here with only the three of you?"

"Cooper," a man came from the other end of the command center, "we have a positive sighting of Allderdyce and Petrakis."

"Where," she immediately asked.

…

"Scott," the woman got his attention as they were walking down the sidewalk trying to decide what to do next, "they're leaving."

"The agents?" his eyes darted around and sure enough, the couple was getting into the blue sedan, "Could you see why?"

She put her hand up to silent him as she focused on the rapidly departing vehicle, "They've been spotted, Pyro, Avalanche, at a museum…"

"This is Philadelphia," Bobby frowned, "that doesn't exactly narrow it down."

Jean furrowed her brow and the car turned a corner, "Bronze… a sitting man… an Agent Cooper…" she shook her head, "these were just surface thoughts, to get more I'd have to dig."

"It's okay," he nodded to her as Bobby pulled something out of his back pocket.

"Maybe I should have," she looked frustrated, "the Acolytes could be anywhere."

"You're not compromising your morals," Scott made that clear, "we'll call the school, get the Professor or Betsy on Cerebro. We'll find them."

"Or we can just go to Benjamin Franklin Parkway and 22nd street," Bobby spoke up, turning around the magazine in his hand to show Rodin's _The Thinker_ in an ad for the Rodin Museum. "A bronze sitting man? I told you picking up a tourist guide book was a good idea."

…

"Hey, Dom, snap a picture, will you!" Pyro had hopped up onto _The Thinker,_ his arm around his shoulder. He stuck his other fist under his chin to match the bronze statue's pose. "I'm thinking… I'm thinking…"

Sighing, Dom finished attaching the Semtex to the base of the statue and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Sirens were starting to pick up in the background, it was about time. Taking a second to line it up a good angle, he took the photo.

"You want one?" Pyro asked courteously as he climbed down.

"No thanks," he slipped his phone back into his pocket and grabbed his duffle, "We'll hit the _Gates of Hell_ next."

"_Gates of Hell_ huh?" Pyro mused, picking up his duffle, "sounds like me after a curry."

* * *

**1X03 – Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix – Act III**

"Rodin Museum," the cabby was talking as he pulled into traffic, the three mutants squished in the back, "it's closed on Tuesdays. Sure you wouldn't like to go someplace else? Independence Hall maybe?"

"Rodin Museum, thank you," Scott told him, that fact making him curious.

Within a few minutes, the taxi was stopped as a police barricade had been put up and was diverting traffic.

"Wonder what that's all about?" the cabby asked.

"How far is the museum from here?" Scott was pulling a couple of twenties from his wallet.

"About two blocks," the driver took the money.

"Keep the change," he said and they filed out and headed in the direction the man pointed.

"Plan?" Bobby nudged his head towards the police who had blocked off the sidewalk.

"Jean?" he asked her with a grin.

The red head narrowed her eyes and what looked to be a sudden gust of wind sent every one of the policemen's caps flying off into the street. It was only a momentary distraction, but it was enough for the three to slip under the tape to head down the street and turn into an alley.

…

"So, these are the _Gates of Hell_ huh?" Pyro had already affixed his bomb against one of the hinges of the bronze works which was literally a very large door with hellish scenes portrayed both on the frame and the doors themselves. "I thought they'd be… bigger?"

"The place is surrounded," Dom had a police radio to his ear, picking up the chatter, "they saw our little gift at the entrance, sounds like they're holding back and digging in for a possible standoff."

"Brill," the fire mutant threw his duffle over his shoulder.

"We should stick around for a bit," Dom clipped the radio to his coat's lapel so he could keep an ear out for anything important, "till we're sure they aren't going to rush in, give Rogue and Quicksilver plenty of time."

"That's cool," Pyro nodded, "want to check out the exhibits?"

Avalanche raised an eyebrow, "Will that keep you from lighting the building on fire?"

"I make no promises," the Australian said with a completely straight face.

…

The small contingent of X-Men was watching the buzzing hive of agents while hiding at the edge of a building across from the museum entrance. Various emergency vehicles and black unmarked vans had the place effectively blocked off.

"Okay," Jean said as she caught her breath, "the building was closed except for a couple of staff members who the Acolytes let go. There was a Claymore mine placed at the entrance, it's just now been disarmed, the bomb squad is looking for less obvious traps."

"Why would they want to blow up a Rodin museum?" Bobby asked.

"They wouldn't," Scott felt his brows knit as he ran everything they had learned through his head and tried to make sense of it, "are only Pyro and Avalanche in there?"

"They were the only ones spotted," Jean confirmed, "and I can't sense Rogue or Quicksilver, though I can barely feel Pyro and Avalanche at this distance."

Making up his mind, he pulled out his phone, "I'm calling the school, getting Cerebro up and running."

With that he headed back down the alley, the two following him, Bobby asking, "Where are we going?"

"Back to downtown," he told him, dialing Xavier's.

"What about Pyro and Avalanche?" Bobby asked.

Scott glanced at the building, "They're just a distraction."

…

This wasn't the first time Jubilee had used the fire extinguisher on Ben and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Is my hair still on fire?" he asked, patting at his head.

"Nope," Jubilee sat the extinguisher down with a thunk, "not that it matters. Being invulnerable to fire has its advantages."

"Wish that applied to my clothes too," Ben frowned, fingering the fringed edges of his collar and sleeves.

"Mr Hammil," Xavier rolled up next to him, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," he started to dust off the CO2 powder from his clothes, "it got away from me again. When I create fire, I dunno, I just feel like I want to _become_ fire."

"Yes," the Professor said thoughtfully, "we'll discuss this further, but at the moment you might rather wish to clean and change."

"Thanks, Professor," he said, embarrassment in his voice, gratefully heading towards the exit.

"I'll keep an eye on him," James, an Apache Indian with long dark hair tied back, said to the group and without waiting for an answer jogged off after Ben shouting, "hey, roomie, wait up."

"Professor," JP walked into the room, pausing just slightly at the mess the fire extinguisher left, "Scott needs you on Cerebro. Kitty's got the details, I'll keep an eye on the kids."

"Of course," the bald man got that look in his eye when he was using his telepathy to skim everything he needed to know from the air, then headed out of the training room.

"What happened here?" JP gestured to the loose C02 all over the floor.

"Ben lit himself on fire again," Jubilee didn't sound all that surprised, in fact, no one except Sharon seemed at all fussed about Ben's current mutational quirks.

"Well then," JP shrugged, "let's get this mess cleaned up."

…

"Thank's Kitty," Scott spoke into his phone as they continued walking down the street. "Call as soon as the Professor has something."

"Cerebro only picks up mutants actively using their powers," Jean pointed out as he tucked his phone into his pocket, "his best bet is Quicksilver."

"He knows," Scott nodded at her, "let's hope they haven't already done whatever it is they were going to do," he glanced around the area they had just left an hour or so before, "the café, we'll start from there."

Unknown to the three mutants, if they walked just ten more feet and turned to the left, they would have seen two strangely familiar individuals in the lobby of one of the buildings, though they would have to look twice to be sure.

…

"Miss Owens," the gentleman greeted her in the lobby, "James Pierce, I hope you had a pleasant trip."

"Two hours from Bangor," Rogue said in her best New Englander accent, adding a lit of a flirt to her voice, "but we were laid out on the tarmac for over an hour, I hope that Philly cheesesteak I've heard so much about is worth it."

"Well then," he tried really had not to check her out as he shook her gloved hand but it was hard for the man seeing as Rogue had opted for a long sleeve blouse under her suit jacket which she left a few too many buttons open on, and a skirt that was just a little too high off the knee with classic silk hose complete with a line down the back, not to mention the blonde curly wig, "perhaps afterwards you'll let me show me the best cheesesteak in town."

Their plan was working, people where noticing them but not 'seeing' them. She smiled, "I think I might like that, oh," she gestured to Pietro in a classic light blue business suit, hair temporarily died brown, "my assistant, Mr Billings."

"Mr Pierce," Pietro was not the most personal of the Acolytes and it showed in his bored expression as he took the man's offered hand.

"Well, if we'll head up to the offices," James ignored Pietro's demeanor, a little too interested in Rogue as they started to walk, "we'll have to go through some security checkpoints, I do apologize, it can feel rather inconvenient, but as you know, we deal with a lot of sensitive data, we wouldn't want anyone to go and steal it now would we?"

"No," Rogue smiled sweetly at him, "cause that would be a real shame."

…

Kitty sat on the floor with her touchscreen computer, leaning up against the desk which housed the interface unit for Cerebro. The Professor was hooked in, the helmet placed on his head and his eyes closed as he concentrated.

Cerebro was basically a large dome room with perfect physic autistics that allowed a telepath to focus and magnify their abilities with pinpoint precision. During the last remodel, the room was built into the sub-basement, the terrakinetic Christy coming in very handy to move all the dirt and Earth that was in the way.

"I can sense Saint-John," he finally said, "he's playing with fire but doesn't seem to be causing much trouble at this time."

"Scott doesn't think they will," Kitty wanted to agree with the optic mutant, he had a lot more experience with the group, but then the Acolytes weren't exactly the nicest or sanest bunch.

"Let us hope he is right," the Professor said gravely.

…

"Ever feel like you're being watched," Pyro snapped closed his lighter, tucking it in a pocket.

"We're surrounded by at least half a dozen policing agencies," Dom frowned at his friend, "of course we're being watched."

"Oh, yeah," he shrugged, lifting up the guide book he snatched from the reception area, "the _Burghers of Calais_, in 1346 the English King Edward III laid siege to the French port of Calais. Eleven months later, Edward demanded the surrender of six of the town's leading men, or burghers, in return for sparing its citizens. Rodin's sculpture commemorates this episode and emphasizes the internal struggle of each man as he walks toward his fate wearing a sackcloth and rope halter."

Dom stared at the bronze statue which was now tinted green, the six dour men walking to their fate, "It's a comment on self-sacrifice?"

"That," Pyro looked at them thoughtfully, "or of really poor fashion sense."

…

"Let's see," Scott was standing next to the table the Acolytes had occupied in the photo, "they are looking that way," he pointed the direction of two large buildings.

"We still don't know if they were watching a business," Bobby was slurping on an iced coffee, "or if they were after a person."

"I think business is more likely," Scott decided, "Jean, I know it's a lot of people, but can you do a sweep of the buildings, see if you get a glimpse of anything amiss?"

"I think we have bigger problems right now," she touched his shoulder and gestured to two black cars that pulled up in front of the café.

A woman, maybe fifteen or twenty years older than them, blonde hair and blue eyes, in a light grey pants suit, exited the car and looked straight at him. She held up her hand at the other men who also exited the vehicles and then made her way to the opening in the wrought iron gate that enclosed the tables. With purpose to her step, she walked straight up to the mutants.

"Scott Summers," it wasn't so much a question but a notification of fact.

"Yes?" he asked warily.

"I want to know why you're here," it was more command than request.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Miss…" playing dumb was easy to do seeing as he had no idea who this woman was nor what she wanted, other than the obvious.

"Assistant Director Valerie Cooper, Department of Homeland Security," she introduced herself without even offering her hand politely, "and don't tell me you didn't know you were being followed the minute you showed up here, you do have a telepath after all," her eyes flicked over to Jean.

The thing was, they didn't know _they_ were being followed. Scott let that fact slide for the time being and not let it show on his face. Instead, he approached the bigger issue, "Why are you following us?" and how did she know Jean was a telepath?

"Let's cut the cloak and dagger crap, shall we?" she said tersely. "I know all about your special little school in Westchester, I know about the X-Men, and I know that I have two very dangerous men laying siege to a museum of priceless artwork. What I don't know, is why you three decided that Allderdyce and Petrakis wasn't worth your time and came back here instead."

There were few times Scott appreciated always having to wear ruby tinted sunglasses, this way the woman would not see the subtle widening of his eyes. He knew the government had taken an interest in them and the school after Magneto split off to create his Brotherhood, but coming face to face with that fact sent an uneasy chill down his spine.

"Agent Cooper," Scott gestured to the table, "I think we should talk."

…

"But you see here," Rogue leaned over to gesture to a part of the schematic, "this is clearly infringement of our client's product."

"Now, clearly is a strong term," James was trying not to check out her cleavage which is exactly what she wanted him to do.

"I'm going to step out for a smoke," Pietro rolled his eyes and stood from the conference table.

"Bring me a coffee when you're done, would you?" she asked him, giving the man more reason to be away from the meeting.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, looking over at their mark, "and you sir?"

"Oh, ah," he glanced away from her, seeming a tad bit guilty, "black, please."

"Right," Pietro headed towards the door.

James turned his head to watch the man leave, "Thank you."

Rogue let her annoyance at playing the part of the eye-candy show on her face when he wasn't looking. It really was playing pretend, having the things she couldn't ever hope to get thrown back in her face, but that was something to think about later, right now she had a job to do. As soon as he returned his attention to her, she snatched back up her smile.

…

Pietro pretended like he was leaving, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his coat, fiddling with them in his hand. In reality, he hated the things, but no one questioned a smoker's need to exit and enter at seemingly random times.

Acting as if he was paying more attention to the pack than to what was in front of him, he bumped into a man who was heading the other way. Using his speed he quickly traded badges with him as he apologized for his inattentiveness.

Going around a corner, the guards saw him leave but not streak back in again before the energy shield reactivated. If he avoided the cameras then no one would be the wiser as he made his way through the building towards the vault.

…

"You honestly don't believe Allderdyce and Petrakis are going to cause any damage?" the woman sitting across from him asked suspiciously, but there was something in her tone that made him think she believed him.

"They might, if they get pushed into it," Scott sighed, "but if destruction was their goal, the place would already be leveled, they're good at that."

"So why come back here?" she questioned.

"It's our best lead," he answered honestly. "The Acolytes like to get in and get out without anyone having been the wiser unless the point of the mission is to make a big splash. However, this time they were spotted. So I'm guessing they sent Pyro and Avalanche to distract you with their threats while Quicksilver and Rogue do whatever it is they came here to do."

Agent Cooper regarded him for a long moment, "I had come to a similar conclusion myself," she said sourly, "the building is empty of hostages, the booby traps so far have been easily located and disarmed. We both know they are putting on a show but at the moment my counterparts are much more concerned with the obvious threat."

"You know our names, Agent Cooper, and what we can do," Scott wasn't exactly sure how much he should push things at this moment, "you know the Acolytes' operating procedures… why do I feel like I should be more afraid of what _you_ are going to do, than what the Acolytes will do."

Again, she paused as she chose her words carefully, her eyes occasionally darting over to Jean as if she expected the woman to simply draw the answers out for him.

"This is my job, Mr Summers," she finally said, "I identify and locate threats to the government and to the people of this country."

"You consider us a threat?" he wasn't going to beat around the bush.

"I think you could be," she answered as if she was expecting that, "and I think you do to. Why else would you have a school to train kids how to control their mutations unless you considered them potentially dangerous to those around them."

Scott couldn't exactly argue with her, but she was seeing the issue from a slightly skewed angle, "A lack of education can make anyone dangerous, mutant or no. We're giving these kids a chance they might not otherwise have."

"All sounds right and noble, doesn't it," she eyed him warily, "but this isn't a case of keeping weapons out of the hands of those with the will to use them… mutants _are_ weapons. You can't change that fact."

"Being a weapon may be something we can do," he said firmly, "but it is not who we have to be."

There was something of an appreciative tint to her voice, "You'll excuse me if it's my job to assume the latter."

"I won't," he replied honestly, feeling his phone in his pocket vibrate, "because as long as there are people like you, those who cater to the fear mongers, then Magneto wins."

A touch of a smile edged at the corner of her mouth, "It seems, Mr Summers, that we're at a philosophical impasse."

"Happens to me a lot," he grimaced, thinking back to the recent argument with Logan as he pulled his phone out, Kitty was calling, "excuse me."

Accepting the call, Kitty came over quickly, "Scott, the Professor's got a hit!"

"Hold on a second," he told her and lowered the phone just a bit to address the DHS agent across from him, "Agent Cooper, like it or not, we're both on the same side, just for different reasons. Agreed?"

After a moment's consideration, she nodded, "Agreed."

"We know where Quicksilver and Rogue are," he said evenly, "so what I want to know is what _we_ are going to do about it."

* * *

**1X03 – Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix – Act IV**

"Where's, ugh, Poison Ivy when you need her," Jubilee pulled more weeds out from between the plants. The school had two gardens, flower and vegetable and there were also the various decorative areas around the building itself which needed care. The kids took rotational shifts keeping it clear of weeds and pests. Jubilee was rethinking taking that extra shift this month.

"Make sure you get all the roots," Meg laughed as she approached, her wings gently swaying in the breeze.

"No, really," she replied sarcastically, taking a spade after a particularly troublesome weed. She was given the landscape plots near the garage and they were always the worst. "I think one of the students is a closet florakinetic, making these things grow overnight."

"Florakinetic, huh," Meg said conspiratorially, "bet it's that Christy, she does like to play in the dirt."

"Darn terrakinetics," Jubilee mumbled, grinning ear to ear.

Meg laughed, then started to look around, "I'm trying to find Sharon, she turned into a cat again, this time a Siamese. She got one look at herself in a mirror and darted off."

"A Siamese," she thought about that for a second, "didn't realize she could change into different cats."

"She never mentioned," Meg agreed, then after a few more cursory glances, said, "well, I guess she'll be okay, not like she can get into too much trouble."

"I feel a comment about curiosity should be made," Jubilee said cheekily.

"Oh, hush," Meg admonished her.

Jubilee had a good laugh, but then she looked up at her friend, "You doing okay, Meg?"

"I'm fine," she replied a bit too quickly and little too casually.

The firecracker knew her roommate was feeling a bit troubled right now, didn't take a blind person to see that. But Jubilee knew from experience that you never knock on the front door of someone's problems, you either wait till you're called from the road or sneak in through the back.

A roaring engine saved them both from the awkward moment, Jubilee stood to see Logan driving up the driveway on his Ducati motorbike. He pulled around to head towards the garage, but he stopped short, coming to a rest in front of the girls. With a flick he killed the engine on the bike gave them a nod, "Pop rocks, pixie stix."

"Hey, Wolvie," Jubilee thumped him on the chest with her finger, "you're late, I had you down for Sunday, I had to pull extra gardening shifts to make my money back."

"What did I tell you about gambling," he gave her a stern look.

"No such thing as a sure thing," she started to tick the list off on her fingers, "never go all in against the house, always have an escape route… oh, and don't try to out-bluff the Cajun."

He chuckled at her, then glanced up at the house, "The Boy Scout isn't in?"

"Nope," Jubilee graciously allowed this change of topic, "he went with Jean and Bobby to Philadelphia, Acolyte business."

"Philly, huh?" he mulled that over but whatever he was thinking, he didn't share, not that this surprised either of them. Wolverine then turned his head to stare towards the garden and sniffed, "When did we get a cat?"

"Oh, that's Sharon, new student," Meg piped up, following his gaze, "she's a locked shape shifter. Jean says her cells literally collapse in on another, like an accordion or something. Tidy."

"Okay," he held the vowel just a bit, "did anyone tell her how much 'Ro loves her garden?"

"I think so, why?" Jubilee asked and the man looked back at her and gave her a little smirk. The firecracker felt her eyes widen, "Not the petunias!" she shouted as she ran towards the garden at full speed.

…

"Well," Rogue smiled at Pierce as they made their way to the lobby, "this has been very enlightening. I'll take everything back to our client and see if he still wants to go forward with the infringement suit."

"As his patent lawyer," Pierce was entirely close for comfort in the elevator, "I'm sure you'll advise him with care towards his best interests."

"You still don't think we have a case?" she said with a slight upturn of her lips.

"Call them as I see them," he threw back the worn statement as the elevator doors opened up.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rogue could see Pietro rolling his eyes at her before saying, "We have just enough time to get to the hotel and set up for that emergency conference call."

"Oh, of course," she smiled apologetically at Pierce, "rain check on the cheesesteak."

"Sure," Pierce replied, knowing full well it wasn't going to happen now.

"Thank you, Mr Pierce," she shook his hand, "your company has been quite… accommodating."

With those parting words, Rogue followed Pietro outside, scanning the street for any threats such as government agents who might have wandered back into the area. Seeing nothing, Pietro waved a cab down.

"Why is it I'm always the one to distract the mark?" her accent slipped into something more comfortable.

"Because," Pietro glanced at her sideways, "you're the only one with patience enough to deal with idiots like him… and you're a girl."

"Really," she frowned as a cab stopped in front of them, "just going to throw out that little misogynic gem?"

"Am I wrong?" he opened the door and gestured for her to get in.

She started to argue but then shrugged, laughed, and slipped inside the cab with Pietro following shortly after. "Please tell me you got what we came for."

He pulled out his burner cell phone and hit the only number dialed into it, after a ring, Dom picked up, "Vacation's over."

"Understood," the man replied and then hung up.

"So, uh," the cabby finally spoke up, "where to?"

"The Barclay," Pietro told them and both mutants took a breath and relaxed.

…

Dom turned to Pyro who was sitting on the floor, leaning against a plaster replica of Rodin's _Eternal Springtime_. His spiral notebook was on his knee and he was writing away as his other hand fiddled with his lighter. "Time to go."

"Aww," the fire mutant frowned, "I was just getting comfortable."

"Come on," he offered a hand to his friend who quickly stood, "an old sewer tunnel runs just outside the building, we'll walk away and let them deal with the explosives."

"Seems like an awful waste of perfectly good Semtex…" Pyro pursed his lips, glancing around.

Dom raised an eyebrow, "You want to blow up the museum?"

"What," he gave the man a stunned look, "and destroy priceless art?"

"You wanted to set it on fire earlier," Dom argued.

"Just a little fire," Pyro pointed out, using his thumb and index finger to prove his point, "not enough to actually melt the bronze, geesh, honestly, what do you think am I? Uncouth?."

The man continued to mumble as Dom followed him towards the exit, shaking his head the whole way.

…

"Sharon?" Jubilee called out as she entered the secondary green house at the edge of the garden. "I swear I saw her come in here."

"She could have gone out the back," Meg suggested as she slipped in behind her.

"Yeah," Jubilee mumbled as she started to walk down the aisle.

"Wait," Sharon's voice called out, "I couldn't make it back to the house in time."

The two mutants looked at each other, then it clicked, their lips mouthing the word 'oh'.

"Is there a tarp around here?" Jubilee began to look around.

"I'll grab something from the house," Meg offered, heading back towards the door, "you keep watch."

"Right, kay," Jubilee made sure the door shut behind her roommate and then turned back towards the plants, "she won't take long."

Off to the right, Sharon's head poked up above some plants timidly, "Thank you, again."

"Don't sweat it," Jubilee waved her off, her eyes focusing to the left, "but until you get control you might want to stick to the house when you shift… or I guess we could store a robe out here, I suppose as a cat you wouldn't want to be cooped up."

"Yeah," she said quietly, "but did you see me? While I was a cat, I mean?"

"I saw a streak of fur as you ran from the garden," Jubilee chuckled then wondered if she should have used the word 'streak' in regards to the situation.

"I wasn't an Abyssinian," her voice was strange, troubled, "I'm always an Abyssinian…"

"Meg said you were a Siamese?" Jubilee questioned.

"Yes," Sharon gave out a nervous laugh, "I took your advice, didn't fight it this time… and… I remember thinking how it would be nice to be something different for a change…"

"Oh," Jubilee thought about that for a second, "Oh! You affected your transformation. That's awesome!"

"I didn't exactly control anything," the firecracker could see the frown in her voice.

"Yes, you did," Jubilee argued. "You turned yourself into a different breed, maybe next time you can focus on a specific breed, I dunno, maybe one of those fluffy long haired ones! Oooo, maybe the cat off of Austin Powers, the bald one… on second thought maybe not. Hairless cats are just weird."

"Maybe," Sharon said slowly, "maybe I could think bigger, you know, like a tiger?"

Jubilee's eye went wide, "That would be so cool!"

The new girl laughed with her and Jubilee thought that for the first time Sharon felt good about herself, her mutation, and her situation in general. That is exactly what the school was all about.

…

"They're almost here," Pietro hung up the phone then went to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

Rogue sat on the sofa, twirling the USB drive in her hand, "You sure you got it all?"

"Everything Silvercloud sent in to be reviewed for a patent license," he took a swig and leaned against the counter.

"Spends all that time and money protecting his creations," she let out a little chuckle, "and he sends the plans out to a patent lawyer."

"Would been nice to have an actual prototype," Pietro shrugged, "but I'm sure Magneto's got someone on the payroll who can turn that into something workable."

She gave an agreeing nod, then in a frustrated move, grabbed the blonde locks that fell in front of her eyes and yanked the whole thing off. Tossing the wig onto the table, Rogue ran her hands through her hair, slipping out the bobby pins to let her short locks fall free.

"Well," she scratched at her scalp, she hated wearing wigs, "I'm gonna change before the boys get here."

"Alright," Pietro continued to lounge, picking up one of her patent law books and thumbing through it quickly as she exited into the bedroom.

Closing the door behind her, first thing Rogue did was kick off the heels she had been wearing. Going barefoot in her stalkings, her gloves and jacket came off next, being tossed onto the bed. She pulled the short sleeve blouse out of her waistband and began undoing the buttons when something told her she was being watched.

Rogue barely had a chance to glance over at the window and see the shadow that had fallen over it through the drawn shades when the whole thing exploded. Shards of glass flying as a flash bang landed only a few feet away from her. Shielding her eyes, she only managed to keep from being _completely_ blinded.

Thankfully, Rogue knew a few things about being blind.

The instant she saw the blurry figures she assessed where they were in relation to her and as they reached out she struck. Not bothering to care if she ripped up her skirt, she kicked out freely, feeling the textured Kevlar of a flak vest. A strike with her elbow sent someone down, their faces hid behind full masks.

Her vision clearing, the letters DHS became visible on the back of the one she felled. She only had a moment to consider this as the cocking of a shotgun behind her got her attention. Grabbing the man nearest, Rogue spun the agent around as a shield who the bean-bag round that was meant for her.

Suspicions confirmed, Rogue tossed the winded man away and attempted to make for an exit… only to get struck from behind by another agent wielding bean bag rounds… sending her spiraling to the floor…

…

They tried the flash bang trick on Pietro, but he was much too quick for that. As soon as he saw it flying through the exploding window he hid behind a half-wall with his eyes closed.

Flack-vest clad men burst through the front door and the window, a full tactical team from the DHS if the lettering on their vests were to be believed. They way they stood, the weapons in their hands, told Pietro that the government had indeed figured them out and followed them to their rented apartment.

Knowing Rogue's room was on an outside wall, there were only two possibilities regarding his second in command. Either she would make an exit out the window, or she'd be surrounded by a tactical team as well.

Regardless, Pietro knew what he had to do.

Dodging forward at superspeed, he snatched up the USB drive from the table and whipped past the assault team. Hitting the window he leapt from the third floor onto the sidewalk below, absorbing the shock through his mutation.

Getting one glance at the DHS and FBI vans which were now parked in front of the _Barclay_, Pietro took off running.

…

"Woah, dude," Pyro stopped in his tracks, noting all the federal agents swarming the building they had been holed up in for the past few days. "How'd they find us?"

"I do not know," Dom grimaced and they started to backpedal, heading around a corner out of sight. "We head to the fall back point, meet up with Pietro and Rogue."

"Yeah," Pyro nodded, flicking his lighter nervously.

…

In the lobby of the one-time hotel, three mutants stood among federal agents who eyed them warily. Just as Scott was thinking of speaking up, Agent Cooper appeared in front of him.

"Well," there was a satisfied smile on her face, "not only did we manage to recover stacks of information on the Acolytes, alias' and whatnot, but we even bagged one."

That surprised the optic mutant but he tried not to let it show, "Which one?"

"The female, Rogue," she told him, "put up a decent fight, I'll give her that."

"What are you going to do with her?" Jean asked before he had a chance to.

"The usual," Cooper shrugged, "holding cells, interrogations, etc."

"Etc, huh?" Bobby said sarcastically.

"This is a Homeland Security collar," she told him pointedly, "we're not interested in experimentation, weapon testing… that's for DARPA and military black ops. All I want is information," her eyes turned back to Scott, "and I'll do what I have to to get it. A deal's a deal."

Scott passed over a worn card which he had been carrying in his wallet for a long time, he'd almost forgot he had it. "He'll be expecting your call."

She took it, glancing at the words written on it before slipping the card into her coat pocket, "I think we can both call this a win."

"I'll call it a win when people like you," he tried to keep his words even, "are no longer needed."

"People like me are always needed, Mr. Summers," she wasn't fazed a bit at his words, "and for the record, I have nothing against mutants in general. I know of several benign mutants who do not worry me, but the rest of you… you're all walking time bombs."

"You're only proving Magneto's point," he countered, "but it doesn't have to be that way, we can live peacefully alongside humans."

"That would be nice," Cooper mused, "and I guess if that day comes, I'll transfer to another department, whatever the next threat is, because there is always another threat. But until then," she eyed him coldly, "consider yourselves on notice. Don't give me a reason to have your school shut down. Neither of us wants to deal with that can of worms."

Scott tightened his jaw, biting back what he wanted to say and attempting to keep the peace. He could not, would not, open a rift between them and the government, he had to prove that not every mutant was like Magneto.

"I'll have a car take you to the airport," she gestured to one of the agents who came forward. "Have a nice flight back to Westchester."

…

A few hours later, Scott stood in the conference room at the school, the entire team, including the Professor, gathered around. Logan was back and the two had barely said three words to each other and for the moment that was fine by him.

"You led government agents straight to the Acolytes," Storm shook her head, "and let them take one of them prisoner?"

"To be honest," Scott sighed, "I figured Quicksilver and Rogue would get away, like always. I hoped that giving Cooper and her agents the chance to capture them would be enough for her to keep her end of the deal."

"For what it's worth," Jean added, "she at least isn't interested in experimentation on mutants, that much was genuine."

"Of course, she'd be more interested in torturing Rogue," JP added conversationally, then after everyone looked at him, "oh, sorry, 'information gathering'," he used air-quotes.

"It's not like the Acolytes don't kinda have this coming," Bobby shrugged. "Whether they're mutants or not, they keep breaking the law and hurting people."

"Cruel and unusual punishment," Jean countered, "they should be locked up, yes, dissected like lab rats, no."

"Yes, well," the Professor interrupted, "I think we can all agree that a government facility is not necessarily the best place for any of our kind to be held, guilty of criminal acts or no. I've been speaking to an old friend of mine this afternoon, I may have found us an alternative. Someplace where they can be held without the risk of being turned into a military lab specimen."

"Care to elaborate, Professor?" Scott asked curiously.

"Not at this time," Xavier answered politely.

"I wouldn't worry," Logan said gruffly from where he was leaning against the wall, "Mystique won't let her daughter sit there very long, and if anything, the other Acolytes will get her out."

"Most likely," Ororo agreed with a tinge or worry. Mystique's idea of a rescue would be to slaughter half of Homeland Security if she had to, and everyone knew it.

"If not, we've got Duncan on the inside now," Scott added. "He'll at least be able to warn us if the DHS starts to become unreasonable or if she's transferred to a DARPA facility."

"That's something at least," the headmistress nodded.

The group broke up after a little more small talk regarding the events in Philadelphia. As Scott went to leave, he found himself face to face with Wolverine, the shorter man always making people feel like they had to look up to him when in reality it was the opposite.

"Not bad," was the last thing Scott expected him to say, "getting Agent Duncan an in with the Council like that. It was risky, didn't think you had it in you."

"It didn't go the way I thought it would," Scott pointed out, not sure how to take what seemed like a compliment from the man.

"It could have gone worse," he shrugged, "but you did it anyway."

"I made a tough call, Logan," Scott crossed his arms, "today you happen to agree. What about tomorrow, or the next day? We gonna keep doing this song and dance?"

"Probably," and with that the gruff man sidled off down the hallway leaving Scott to wonder if maybe this had all been a really bad idea.

* * *

**1X02 – Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix – Tag**

It was well past midnight and the school was dark. A figure padded their way towards the French doors leading out to the balcony. Opening the door just enough to slip out, the air was cool, fall settling in, bringing with it a chill. A nearly full moon shone down, illuminating the young woman.

Meg stood on the cold stone clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and the halter top she wore to bed. Stretching her wings out as far as they would go, she began to flap them as hard as she could. Like a hummingbird, the fairy-like appendages picked up speed, creating gusts of wind that shook leaves and dust from the ground.

Closing her eyes she concentrated on her wings, leaning forward a bit to create an angle for lift… the pads of her heels coming up off the ground to leave her on her tip toes… she flapped a little harder…

and collapsed, flat footed.

With a defeated sigh, Meg shook her head and fought back tears as she slipped into her room, attempting not to wake Jubilee.

She managed to crawl under her bed sheet when the other mutant spoke up, "JP said you needed another two or three inches in order to get enough lift for your body size."

"I know," Meg whispered back.

"You're still growing, Meg," Jubilee sat up, "you'll get there. Didn't Warren say he wasn't able to fly with his until he was, what, eighteen?"

"He has proper wings though," she chewed on her lip, "and he glides a lot, I won't be able to do that."

"Still doesn't mean you won't get there," her friend assured her, "a lot of girls are late bloomers… course that usually refers to their boobs, but I think the same applies here."

"Jubes!" Meg tried not to laugh and instead chucked her pillow across the room at the firecracker.

Jubilee laughed and threw the pillow back, "I'm serious though. You'll come into them, I know you will."

"I wish I had your faith," the pink haired mutant sighed and straightened out her bedding. "I just…"

"You want to _do _something," Jubilee offered, "most everyone else's mutations do something, even if it's kinda simple, yours is purely cosmetic."

"Exactly," Meg admitted, frowning, "is it wrong for me to want that too?"

"I don't think so, in itself," Jubilee shrugged, "but you can't focus on what you can't do girl, and think about the stuff you can do."

"Such as?" she said sarcastically.

"Turn all the boys' heads," Jubilee said cheekily, "I mean, seriously, the rest of us girls might as well not exist when you walk into class."

Meg blushed, "That's not true."

"It so is!" Jubilee was adamant, "Ben totally has the hots for you… pun not intended… and he's not the only one. It's like you put the guys into a hypnotic trance or something, you walk in, they instantly check you out. During class, they steal glances at you. Don't tell me you never noticed it."

"I… uh… no," Meg frowned.

"Well, maybe you should start paying attention," Jubilee started to snuggle back into her bed, "and list 'total hottie' as your secondary mutation or something."

"Jubes!" she was blushing, knowing the tips of her cheeks were now pinker than her hair.

"Just make sure you leave enough boys for the rest of us, huh?" the girl said sleepily.

Meg's mouth opened to say something but she couldn't quite figure out what. Did the guys really find her the most attractive in their age group? Had to be the hair, and the wings, she had the whole 'exotic' thing going for her, right? Could it be as simple as that?

Laying down in bed, all thoughts of not being able to fly were gone from her head, she could only focus on the fact that apparently she could have her pick of the boys in their class… that alone was a great power to have… and with great power comes great responsibility to milk this for all it was worth, after all, you're only a teenager once.

…

In a warehouse on the outskirts of Philadelphia, Pietro waited, sending messages with his phone. Eventually, two familiar figures walked through one of the bay doors.

When Pyro and Dom got close, the fire mutant looked around, "Where's Rogue?"

"Taken," Pietro said bluntly, "by Homeland Security."

"What?" Pyro glanced between him and Dom, "What happened?"

"Somehow they found us," Pietro didn't even bother looking up or even really acknowledging his teammates, "probably followed us from the lawyer's office. Doesn't matter. They raided the apartment and took down Rogue, I got away."

"Wait," the Aussie shook his head, "you let them take her?"

"Yes."

Pyro grabbed the speed mutant by his lapels, "Not cool!"

"You weren't there," he replied matter of fact.

"Rogue wouldn't leave one of us behind," Dom answered just as gravely.

"I know," Pietro speedily slipped out of Pyro's grasp, "but an opportunity came up that I needed to take advantage of."

"Yeah, saving your own skin," Pyro was disgusted.

"See, this is why I don't put you two in charge," Pietro rolled his eyes. "Haven't you noticed we're not exactly batting a hundred right now? The Council and their DHS lackey are getting too close. No one should have known we were even here, let alone where we were staying."

Pryo was flicking his lighter rapidly, "And what does this have to do with you abandoning Rogue?"

"Rogue and I have been discussing what to do about the situation," he continued, "one option was information gathering, Rogue style, but they'd catch on to that fairly quickly. Anything she stole would be old news in five minutes."

"But…" Pyro stopped and Pietro could swear he saw the wheels turning in the man's head, "oh, if she's captured, she gets closer to those following us and if she absorbs anyone they will chalk it up to her trying to escape."

"Exactly, they'll still change passwords and the like but not think to make major overhauls as if we were planning an attack," Pietro allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. "But it wouldn't have worked unless the capture was realistic which is why I had initially discounted it. So good of the DHS to oblige us."

"Sneaky," Pyro grinned, "I like it."

"How long are we going to let her sit?" Dom spoke up and Pyro made a 'good question' gesture and looked back to Pietro.

"A couple of days should suffice," Pietro shrugged, "gives us time to plan her escape while she gets whatever she can."

"Do you have a plan in mind?" the seismic mutant asked.

"A bit of one," Pietro admitted. "We're going to have call in the reserves though."

"The big guy?" Pyro asked.

"The big guy."

* * *

_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**_

* * *

**On the next episode of **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series…**_

_— "Is that not how it works? You say jump, I say how high?" – Colossus_

_—"If I'm going to prove I'm able to run Worthington Industries one day, I have to start running it today." – Warren_

_—"Spy is a harsh word. I'm simply here to make sure you don't forget that mutants are still people." – Duncan_

_—"There's no reason for us not to afford you some reasonable accommodations." – Lowell_  
_"Is that before or after the water-boarding starts?" – Rogue_

_— "Just how big of a gala would this be?" – Jean_  
_"Only one of the biggest parties of the year,. It's being put on by the Hellfire Club's New York chapter." – Betsy_

_—"I was kinda volun-told by Betsy that I would accompany her tonight." – Scott_

_—"It's attitudes like that which will ensure war." – Cooper_  
_"Do you really think this could end any other way?" – Rogue_

_—"Sebastian Shaw, Black King of the Hellfire Club." – Shaw_

_**Episode 1X03: Alekhine's Gun**_

* * *

**1X02 – Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix**

Written by JayCee

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

Executive Producer – JayCee  
Co-Producer – Chellerbelle  
Script Consultant – ginchy

_Music: "Fireworks"_ by Katy Perry  
_Citation M2 _furnished by Cessna  
Shooting Location: Rodin Museum – Philadelphia

This is an unofficial fan fiction. It is not sponsored, licensed, or approved by Marvel Characters, Inc, Marvel Studios, Marvel Entertainment, 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, Fox Broadcasting Company, Ford Motor Company, or any other entities which may receive direction mention.

"X-Men" is a registered trademark of Marvel Characters, Inc.

All original content Copyright © 2012-2013 JayCee and xmenthefanficseries DOT com

All trademarks are properties of their respective owners.


	5. 1X03 - Alekhine's Gun

**Author's Note: **Thanks again everyone for reading! Double hugs to those who review! :) Gambit will be showing up in the series, in episode 1X09 fittingly entitled "King of Hearts". I'll post a scene from it on my blog if anyone can tell me the meaning of this episode's title in relation to the story.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Episode #:** 1X03  
**Title:** Alekhine's Gun

**Summary:** Needing help, the Acolytes call for backup of colossal proportions. Warren invites Jean to the Hellfire Club's annual gala.  
Rated TV14 for scene of a nonconsensual sexual nature.

* * *

**Previously… on **_**X-Men: The Series**_

_—"X-Men, they call themselves the X-Men." – Rogue_

_—"Magneto will continue to escalate until he's given the government no choice but to declare war on the Brotherhood." – Storm_

_—"Where's Rogue?" – Pyro__  
__"Taken, by Homeland Security." – Quicksilver_

_—"There's another mutant with big feathery wings, he has the same kind of bone structure, and he can fly, well, glide." – Meg_

_—"What were you dreaming, I wonder," – Sabretooth_

_—"Hey, Wolvie, you're late," – Jubilee_

_—"Not bad, getting Agent Duncan an in with the Council like that." – Wolverine_

_—"I believe… that regardless of biology and semantics, Magneto is a terrorist who supports mass genocide and Xavier is an unknown quantity with a virtual army at his disposable at that school. Both are threats to the security and safety of this country… and I'll do anything in my power to stop them." – Cooper_

_—"A bit of one," Pietro admitted. "We're going to have call in the reserves though." – Quicksilver_  
_"The big guy?" – Pyro_  
_"The big guy." – Quicksilver_

* * *

**1X03 – Alekhine's Gun – Teaser**

Outside the Ronald Regan National Airport in Arlington, Virginia, a handsome man with a chiseled face, square jaw, and short jet-black hair, waited patiently at the taxi ramp. A lady with two kids and six suitcases stood behind him, the children obviously suffering from recent cabin fever being stuck on a plane for who knows how long.

As she attempted to keep them reined in, it became his turn to load a taxi. Taking one look at it and the woman, he stepped back and made a gesture towards the vehicle. It took her a second but she realized he was offering her the taxi and with a relieved 'thank you' the woman ushered her kids inside as the driver came around to load the bags into the trunk.

A few minutes later, another taxi arrived and he slipped his considerable height, all six feet and seven inches of it, into the cab, tossing his duffle beside him.

"Where to?" the cabby asked in a worn Moscow accent.

"Ritz-Carlton, Georgetown," the man replied.

"Ah, comrade," Moscow said as he pulled out into traffic, slipping into his native tongue, "{from Siberia if I'm not mistaken.}"

"Da," the passenger, Piotr Rasputin, glanced out of the window, seeing the Potomac River in the distance, "{Lake Baikal.}"

"{Lake Baikal,}" the cabby mused, "{haven't been there since was but small child. Is it still as beautiful as I remember?}"

"Da," Piotr answered quietly.

"{What brings you to DC?}" Moscow asked, "{Business or Pleasure?}"

"{Business,}" he tended to keep his answers short and to the point.

"{Ah, but cannot business be pleasure?}" the driver said cheekily.

"{I do not think so,}" Piotr frowned.

It was only a twenty minute drive to the hotel. Piotr paid the cabby a decent tip being that he was generally a nice man, if not a bit talkative.

Walking through the lobby, he was noticed. With his height causing him to tower over everyone and his classically handsome features turning the girls heads, it was hard not to. His eyes downcast, avoiding all the appreciative (and some jealous) stares, he made his way to the elevator.

Clicking the button for the fourth floor, he eventually found himself standing in front of room 419. Knocking firmly twice, he waited for the door to open into a rather large hotel room complete with a living area and an arch leading to double beds.

The silver haired man greeted him by asking, "You followed?"

"Not that I saw," Piotr answered honestly.

Quicksilver eyed him for a second, not quite trusting the man for obvious reasons, then moved to the side to the let him in.

"Hey," the red-haired crazy one looked up from the table he was leaning against, "the Tin-Man finally made it."

"I took the first flight down," Piotr sighed as he tossed his duffle off to the side next to a sofa. "Is that not how it works? You say jump, I say how high?"

"Oh, oh!" Pyro stood up straight, grinning, "I got it this time. You were secretly a hitter for the Russian mafia but you fell in love with the head bosses daughter and got her pregnant. Now there is a price out on your head but Magneto keeps the mafia at bay in return for working for him?"

Piotr stared at him blankly before saying, "Have you ever considered channeling that over-active imagination of yours into something more productive?"

Pyro merely shrugged, "Until you tell me what bucket head is holding over you I'm gonna keep guessing. One of these days I'll have to get it right."

The Russian sighed and rubbed at his forehead.

"Come on, give me a hint," Pyro urged, "was a murder involved? You don't seem the murdering type, but they say it's always the quiet ones."

"Pyro," Avalanche admonished dryly, "shut up."

"Fine," the fire mutant sulked and slipped out a lighter, flicking it open and closed before Avalanche ripped it from his hand. "Hey!"

"No powers, remember," Quicksilver crossed his arms, "not till we go after Rogue. We can't have the X-Men getting into this middle of this."

"I won't light it," Pyro pulled another lighter out from somewhere, "I promise."

All three of them looked at the Australian with various degrees of disbelief, but in the end they knew that Rogue was one of the few people who understood Pyro and he wouldn't jeopardize rescue of a woman who was like a sister to him.

"What is the plan?" Piotr eventually asked.

"They're holding her in Philadelphia right now," Quicksilver informed him, "heavily guarded. They'd be expecting us to go after her there which is why we're not."

Piotr's eyes fell to the table covered in a map and blueprints. It took him a second but he realized what he was looking at, "This is not the smartest location to attempt a rescue."

"Which is exactly why it's the best place to try," the leader grinned. "Tell me Colossus, do you play chess?"

* * *

**_X-Men: The (fan fic) Series_**

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee's RedGold

* * *

**1X03 – Alekhine's Gun – Act I**

Jean watched through the open door as a silver Ford Taurus pulled up the drive of Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning. Instead of going to the garage, it stopped at the front entrance, the driver quickly opening the rear door. The first man out was simply dressed in a nice suit, the kind of person who could fit in at a lawyer's office on any given day, especially since he carried a large portfolio in his hands.

The assistant stood to the side and another gentleman, mid-twenties, with prim though slightly shaggy blonde hair, exited the vehicle. Under a stylish black coat he wore a form fitted polo shirt which showed off a nicely toned body, one that had been described as 'positively angelic' by the E! News fashion mongers. How close to the truth they were they would never know…

"Yes," he said into the phone glued to his ear, "but if we don't ship by the end of the month then we might as well hand the contract over to Tsurayaba Engineering."

The man smiled at Jean as he berated whoever it was on the other end of the phone.

"Sorry about that," he apologized once he hung up, handing the phone to his assistant and trusted friend, "if I'm going to prove I'm able to run Worthington Industries one day, I have to start running it today."

"It's alright, Warren," she returned his smile. Her friend was the heir to a rather large Fortune 500 company started by his grandfather, Warren Worthington the First, and Jean imagined having that much weight on his shoulders wasn't an easy thing. "The Professor is speaking with a student but he'll be ready to see you in a moment," she closed the door behind them.

"Ah, yes, more business," he frowned, starting to shrug off the long coat he wore, the other man coming to his aid to slip it off over the peaks of two large, white wings, "thank you, Cameron," he told the man then stretched, the wings expanding to almost twice the length of his arms, "that feels so good, been stuck in meetings all morning."

The angelic mutant had to turn sideways in order to fully extend his wings which had grown out from his shoulder blades starting when he was eleven. His new position gave Jean a look at his backside and she noted the barely visible creases in the fabric of his shirt under his wings. One could barely tell that Velcro was being used to hold it together so from the front it looked like it fell over the torso properly, naturally.

"Warren, Cameron," Bobby came down the hall, holding his own portfolio. "The Professor is busy but I thought we'd go ahead and crunch some of the numbers, get it out of the way."

"Can do," Cameron nodded, walking over to the Iceman, "I've had a look at your quarterly reports for last school year, I've got good news and bad on our end."

"That's usually how most my dates go," Bobby frowned leaving most of them to chuckle.

"Mind if I steal Warren for a moment?" Jean asked as they started to head down the hall.

"I'll never mind," the winged man grinned brightly at her.

"Yeah," Cameron either didn't see or ignored the exchange, opening his portfolio to hand a thick folder over to Bobby, "we're good here."

The two numbers guys walked away down the hall and Jean ushered Warren into the sitting room. "How are you, Jean? I heard you were in Philadelphia yesterday, something to do with this 'X-Men' business?"

Jean sighed, "We're not X-Men, that was… oh nevermind. I suppose it's stuck now if even you've heard it."

"I do try to stay out of mutant affairs, it's better for business," he said unapologetically, then his voice turned soft as he stepped closer, "but I worry about you. What has Scott gotten you in to?"

"Nothing none of us can't handle," she bristled slightly.

"But taking on Magneto and his goons directly," he reached up and stroked her cheek, "I've heard what some of them are capable of. Horrible things."

"Which is why we need to stop them," she took his hand from her face, but didn't stop holding it.

After a moment he sighed, "Someone does, yes, but… be careful. You're one of my dearest friends, I hate the thought of you getting hurt."

"Good thing I'm not going to get hurt then," she smiled, pulling away from him slightly. She liked Warren, she did, he was handsome, rich… everything a girl could hope for in a man… but he was a friend, a good friend, but still a friend. "This isn't the reason I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" he followed her over to the French doors leading out onto the patio.

"You remember Megan Gwynn?" she asked, gesturing to the group of kids playing outside as part of their gym class.

"Of course, little Meg," he smiled as he spotted her, "how are those fairy wings of hers coming in?"

"Despite their delicate looking nature, they are quite strong and durable," Jean thought back to what JP had said, "if they keep growing they should be able to create enough lift for her to fly."

"That's fantastic**,"** he was grinning now, "I can't begin to explain how… incredible it feels to fly. I don't get to do it often enough these days. She's going to love it."

"I don't doubt she will," Jean turned to Warren, "but until then, she's grounded as her wings can't support her weight and… well… kids already have so many pressures put upon them these days..."

"You're afraid she'll develop some kind of self-image complex?" he asked, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Basically, yes," she sighed. "It's hard enough to teach these kids that there is nothing wrong with them, especially the ones with physical mutations, add that on top of the real threats of bulimia and depression… we worry about her but we don't want her to feel as if she's being smothered."

"You want me to talk to her," Warren knew what she was getting at, "one winged mutant to another."

"If you would?" Jean gave him a hopeful smile. "You know more about what's she going through than most."

"Of course," his face lit up and she knew that look, "when is her birthday, soon I hope?"

"A couple months ago actually," Jean frowned.

"Ah, well, I'll make it work," he waved her off and grinned. "Why don't I take Meg to see my personal stylist and tailor? We can redo her whole wardrobe with shirts and dresses specifically designed to fit around her wings. Not only can I sneak in some bonding time but what young girl doesn't get cheered up by a closet full of new clothes?"

"I think she'd love that," Jean couldn't help but smile broadly at him, "thank you."

"Think nothing of it, us winged ones need to stick together after all," he continued to grin but his eyes took on a bit of a sneaky tint, "however, there is one small thing you can do for me in return?"

Jean raised one red eyebrow, "What happened to winged-one solidarity?"

"This winged one remembered he was short a date this Friday," he took her hand like a gentleman, "how would you like to do me the honor of accompanying me to a rather large gala being held at the Cloisters?"

"Um," she blushed a bit, it wasn't often she got asked out on dates, though she often wished a certain someone would get up the courage to do so, "will you still help Meg if I say no?"

"Of course I will," he said like a respectful gentleman.

"Then I'll say yes," she almost reluctantly agreed. It would be nice to go out. "Just how big of a gala would this be?"

"Only one of the biggest parties of the year," another voice joined them and both turned to see Betsy walk into the room. Instinctively Jean removed her hand from Warren's. "So big, it's been talked about for months. I'm pretty sure Warren waited till last minute to ask you so that you wouldn't have time to back out."

"Why would I back out?" Jean frowned.

"He didn't say?" the purple haired Brit gave Warren a disapproving stare. "It's being put on by the Hellfire Club's New York chapter."

"The Hellfire Club," Jean started to get incensed, "those self-indulgent, self-obsessed…" she struggled with the right curse word but her manners wouldn't allow her to say what she was thinking. "They wanted to recruit my father years ago and when he refused they tried to ruin his name."

"Yes, I know," Warren frowned, holding up his hands in defense, "but my father is a member, as was his father, and it means something to him. Right now I have to play nice with dear old dad and go to this function. They inducted a new Black King, changed up the whole council, perhaps they've changed?"

Jean shook her head, "I don't know."

Betsy got a rather devilish look on her face, "Oh, why don't you come, you can keep me company."

"You're going?" the redhead asked at the same time Warren did.

"My parents belong to the London chapter," she shrugged, "so I was given an invite. I was going to claim something came up on the night, would make my father terribly disappointed, but he'd get over it."

"And who would you be taking, Betsy?" Warren eyed her suspiciously.

"Let's see," she tapped her finger against her lips, "who could I get on short notice who is handsome and gentlemanly?"

"Betsy?" Jean had a pretty good idea who she was talking about.

"You'll excuse me, I need to go find Scott and inform him he'll be escorting me to the gala," she smiled at both of them with just a twinge of mirth to her lips before she turned and left, the two mutants watching her disappear through the doors just as Bobby stuck his head in.

"Hey," he looked between all three of them slightly confused, "the Professor's ready for us now."

…

Kitty shouted as she landed on her rear for the seventh time in the last hour. This time she just sat there, catching her breath, trying not to get frustrated, failing of course.

"Up, half pint," Logan said gruffly.

"No," Kitty said breathlessly, "I'm good right here."

"That's a good place to be," the Wolverine crossed his arms, "if you wanna be stomped on."

With a resigned sigh and roll of her eyes, Kitty struggled to her feet. "What's the point of standing if you're just going to knock me back down again?"

"When you can answer that," he gave her the closest thing to a smile the man could muster, "you won't need me to tell you."

She opened her mouth to say something, then shook her head, "So we go again?"

"Nah," he seemed to take pity on her, "let's work on some defensive moves."

"Okay, but I want a different partner," she frowned at him, "your bones are metal, it's like trying to throw a house over my shoulder."

…

Scott sat at the conference table with his laptop, tapping away, JP across to his right. "Why is it I miss one day of teaching and yet I feel like I've fallen behind a whole week?"

"I'm not sure even the laws of physics can explain that one," JP laughed, a bunch of books strung in front of him.

"Oh," Scott glanced up, "did 'Ro sign off on the field trip to the American Museum of Natural History?"

"I hope that means you're volunteering to chaperone," JP asked wryly.

Scott was saved having to answer by Betsy gliding through the door making a beeline straight towards him.

"Scott Summers," she said in a very commanding voice.

"Betsy?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Friday, we leave at six," she came around the table and put her hands on his shoulders, "wear the tux you wore for Hank's award dinner last year and your ruby glasses with the gold trim, I'll wear something to match."

"Huh, wha?" he managed to utter but she had moved on towards the other exit.

"Remember, six," she opened the door, "traffic to the Cloisters can be hell and we don't want to be too fashionably late."

Scott blinked several times at the empty spot Betsy was just standing in. "What just happened?"

"If I have to explain that to you," JP chuckled, "then you're worse off than I thought."

…

"And this is what we're looking at," Cameron handed over the paperwork to the Professor.

"Worthington Industries contributions will account for about eighteen percent of our operational budget for this school year," Bobby added. "That's down by five percent but with the increase in student body and paying off the renovations we did over the summer, it's more of our costs going up than Warren being any less generous."

"I'd give more," Warren was quick to add, "but people are starting to pay attention to me as a serious entity instead of as Warren Jr's eccentric son. I start putting too much money into my old alma-mater and this place will find itself under a microscope by some very shrewd, very dangerous, businessmen."

"We understand," the Professor gave him a thoughtful smile, "and your generosity has been greatly appreciated over these past few years."

"I can see about finding more sponsors," Warren frowned, "but it's difficult, especially while hiding the fact this is a mutant school. To everyone else it's just another private institution, nothing special."

"And that is how it needs to be right now, unfortunately," Xavier signed the forms and passed them over to Bobby to sign as the school's accountant.

"Charles," Warren edged in slightly, "about this whole X-Men business. Do you think it's wise? Especially as you've always championed a peaceful co-existence between us and humans?"

The Professor sighed but met the younger man's blue eyes, "I would prefer if we were not put into this position in the first place, but the Brotherhood has forced our hand."

"So you stop Magneto," Warren shook his head, "what then? Do you really think the government will see us as less than a threat?"

"You think we should let him be?" Bobby asked incredibly. "The man supports murder and subjugating the human race, genocide even."

"He's in the wrong, yes," Warren quickly assured the man, "but perhaps he's the wrong target?"

Xavier tilted his head just a bit. "What are you saying, Warren?"

"What I'm saying," the winged mutant sighed, "is that removing Magneto from the equation could be more trouble than it's worth. I'm taking this from a business perspective. Right now everyone is looking at the Brotherhood, they're the biggest threat to them, so that is where all their resources are. Once they're gone, those resources are going to turn towards other mutants, this school in particular. They aren't going to care if we took Magneto down and claim peace, we will still be viewed as a direct threat to government and military operations."

Bobby frowned, "You sound like you don't think we could ever live in peace with humans?"

"I think it's a reality we can't take off the table," Warren admitted.

"We've always known that the bigger battle is not with the Brotherhood," Xavier informed him, "but at this time it is the only one we can fight. We must prove ourselves to those who think us threats, we shouldn't have to, but we will anyway, and then we can look into the 'bigger picture' as it were."

…

"Agent Duncan," Val greeted the older gentleman as he walked into the busy command room, "you've been briefed?"

"On the way over," he nodded and followed her across the room into a hallway, "my director has signed off on me being assigned to Homeland Security as a special observer to the Council on Superhuman Affairs."

"I want to make something clear," she spoke curtly, "you're an observer only, you have no authority here otherwise, even to the FBI agents I have on staff which you technically outrank."

"Of course," he gritted his teeth a bit at that but he knew he was taking a powerless position, well, in some ways.

"Secondly," she opened a door and gestured for him to enter, "I know you're friends with Xavier and Summers, you've been covering for them for some time."

"It's not exactly been a secret," he said dryly.

Cooper shut the door, "Summers asked me to bring you in, he didn't have to say why, he wanted a spy."

"Spy is a harsh word," Duncan shrugged off the implication, "I'm simply here to make sure you don't forget that mutants are still people, they have rights just the same as everyone else."

"Rest assured, that's something I don't forget lightly," she stepped forward, holding her own against his height and stature, "and you should never forget that you are a federal agent duly appointed to serve and protect your country."

"That's what I'm doing," he stared her down and neither blinked.

The blonde woman simply smiled and turned towards the one-way glass, "You're just in time for the interrogation."

Following her line of sight, Duncan's eyes laid on the young woman sitting in the chair, her bare hands cuffed to the table. The dress blouse she was wearing was torn but didn't fall indecently on her. Her dark hair was a mess, the white streak smudged with dirt. She stared defiantly at the one-way glass.

"This should be interesting."

* * *

**1X03 – Alekhine's Gun – Act II**

"Has she given you much trouble?" Duncan asked casually as he examined the young woman. She looked like hell but nothing unreasonable for a woman who fought off several tactical assault agents.

"About as much as expected," Cooper's tone was just as light, "she's knocked out several agents. A few were idiots who didn't take proper precautions, but then she started kissing those who she couldn't touch otherwise."

"She's resourceful," he replied wryly.

"Yes, well," Cooper cleared her throat, "we're learning much about how her ability works and she's gotten nowhere."

"The Brotherhood won't let her sit for long," Duncan pointed out, "she's one of Magneto's favored Acolytes, not to mention Mystique's adopted daughter."

"We've taken precautions against the shape shifter," Cooper waved him off, "as you've seen on your way in here."

"Rental readers, fingerprints," the fed mused, "two things a shape shifter can never get quite right."

The door to the interrogation room opened up and a man walked in, short brown hair to match his suit. Duncan recognized him as Frank Lowell, the new CIA liaison to the Council on Superhuman Affairs, "He's doing the interrogation? The CIA has no charter to perform operations on American soil."

"I'm very aware of this," Cooper didn't bat an eye.

Lowell laid a rather thick brown file on the table in front of the mutant Rogue and flipped it open. He spent several minutes perusing the file, not giving the woman more than a second glance.

"If it would make you more comfortable," he didn't bother looking up, "we could get you some fresh clothes. Even arrange a shower."

"My hero," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes and looking completely disinterested.

"Mutant abilities or no, you're still a human being," he glanced up at her, clasping his hands together in front of him, "there's no reason for us not to afford you some reasonable accommodations."

She tilted her head thoughtfully, "Is that before or after the water-boarding starts?"

"You shouldn't believe everything you see on the news," Lowell said dryly, "besides, I doubt it would work on you."

Rogue's eyes gained an intensity not usually seen on someone so young, "You have no idea, sugah."

"No, we don't," the CIA agent didn't seem fazed by her, "and that's part of the problem, isn't it? Help us to understand you, Rogue, understand why the Brotherhood feels the need to be so aggressive."

"And maybe next you can get me a spot on Dr. Phil," she rolled her eyes.

"She's using humor as a defense mechanism," Duncan mumbled out loud.

"She's not stupid," Cooper added, "she knows this is just the warm-up round."

"Let's see," Lowell didn't rise to the bait, instead went back at the file in front of him, "our dialect experts are positive that your accent is Mississippian, however, the exact region is unclear, likely because you haven't been back there in awhile. This goes with reports that you were 'adopted' by Raven Darkholme, aka Mystique, when you were young, twelve, thirteen perhaps? How does one become adopted by a shape shifting assassin by the way?"

"I'm trying to sell my story to the Hallmark channel," she smiled sweetly.

"Then of course there is Allderdyce and the Maximoff's," Lowell continued on, "Darkholme ran a regular boot camp for future Brotherhood inductees. Did you even have a choice to become an Acolyte?

"Hhmmm," Rogue pretended to think about that for a second, "fight, or sit back and let the weak and fearful destroy me simply because I have the audacity to exist."

"Let's talk about your mutation," he flipped a few pages, "the leech or succubus power is not exactly rare but it is uncommon, and your mutation in specific, well, we've not seen another who can mimic mutations so completely."

"If you do, let me know," she replied dryly, "I'll sue for copyright infringement."

Lowell mused for a moment. "The fact that you knock out your victim suggests it's energy based, but does it have a biological component, do you actually mimic the other mutant's DNA?"

"What can I say?" she grinned devilishly, "I make men weak in the knees."

"As for your secondary mutation," the man moved on admirably from that, "how would you classify that, telepathy?"

"Schizophrenia," Rogue answered flatly.

This caused Lowell to pause and look up, "So, you hear voices then?"

Rogue must have realized her mistake and leaned back in her chair as far as she could go being cuffed to the table.

After a pause, Lowell flipped the file closed, "I think that's enough for the moment," then exited the room.

"Rogue realized she screwed up," Duncan said thoughtfully, "she'll be more on guard."

"Then we'll give her a chance to let her slip up again," Cooper gave him an approving smile. "That was quite informative."

"Yes, it was," he had to agree.

Lowell stepped through the door to join them, "Did you catch it?"

"Yes," Cooper nodded, "her mutation is her weak point. It was subtle, but when you referred to it as a succubus like ability, she did not like that at all."

"It's what led to her mistake," Duncan added, "she let her emotions out."

"Next question is," Lowell turned to Cooper, "do we go again now, rack it up a notch, or let her stew a bit?"

"Good question," Cooper turned back to look at the girl, "she's not your typical case… give what we have to the psycho-analytical guys, see what they say. And I want agents working double time, someone out there has to know who she is, where she came from."

"You know," Duncan said quietly, "there's a rumor that even Mystique doesn't know Rogue's full story either, what her birth name is."

Cooper was not to be deterred, "Then that'll give us even more of an advantage when we find it."

…

"Again," Logan commanded and James Proudstar moved forward to attack the much smaller Kitty Pryde.

Kitty grabbed his arm and twisted it sideways, then turning her own body around she pivoted causing the sixteen-year-old who was built like a footballer to tumble over her and land on his back.

While Kitty was quite proud of herself, Logan and JP were shaking their heads.

"What?" Kitty said as she stepped back to let James up, "I took him down."

"This time, Apache," Logan gave the young man a look, "actively fight back."

"Okay," the darker skinned Native American shrugged and got into position.

"Again," the short man commanded.

James moved forward and Kitty grabbed his arm but he was quicker, not super-human quick, just quick, using his own strength to pull her up against him. Within seconds he had her thrown over his shoulder.

"HEY!" Kitty pounded on his back.

"Let her down," Logan told the man who dropped Kitty on her feet. "Do you know why he got you that time?"

"Cause his mutation is super strength?" she pouted, pinging a finger off one of his muscles.

"No," Wolverine stared her down, "it's because you're too slow."

"Slow?" the girl looked insulted.

"He's right," JP nodded, "slowing it down works for learning the moves, but now you got to step it up. The enemy won't stand there and wait for you."

"Right," she said through frustrated teeth.

"Again," he gestured between them, "Kitty, you speed up, James, don't let her take you down."

This time when James attacked, Kitty managed to get slightly farther than before but the bulky man tossed her around like a rag doll and she ended up on her rear.

"This is getting so old," Kitty grumbled.

…

"What you doing?" Pyro slid next to Piotr on a park bench, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Waiting for Dom to return, as are you," he continued with what he was doing, sketching two elderly gentlemen who were playing chess.

"Hey, that's pretty good," the fire mutant was looking over his shoulder, "ever considered showing off your work on a professional level?"

"Because having one's art shown in a gallery constitutes a low profile," Piotr said blandly.

Pyro laughed heartily, "Ah, man, I can create another fake ID for you, something that'll stand up to even the harshest art critics. You'd be surprised what you can get away with these days. Oh, unless you _are_ hiding from the Russian mafia."

"Pyro," Piotr sighed, hoping that man would get the hint and be quiet.

"Come on," Pyro nudged his arm causing him to create a streak on the paper, "the Brotherhood can be like WITSEC for mutants."

"Wit-sec?" the Russian questioned as he erased the wayward line.

"It's what they call Witness Protection in the US, I like the word, just rolls off the tongue, Wiiiiiiiiiiiit-sec" Pyro laughed. "Anyway, come on, give me a hint, is the mafia involved at all?"

"The Russian mafia does not exist," Piotr tried a different approach.

"Of course it does…" the fire mutant eyed him suspiciously, "ah… I see… hhmmm…"

That kept the Australian quiet for a few minutes, but eventually Avalanche showed up, walking down the sidewalk. "What are you two doing outside?"

"He's being artistic," Pyro gestured to Piotr, then held up his coffee, "and I'm trying not to set the park on fire, well, more like just that gazebo over there. Did you know that they used a sealant that was recalled in the 90s because it was highly flammable?"

…

The three men returned to the hotel room and Pietro was drumming a pen against the counter, his feet tapping in a way that to some might look nervous, or antsy… but this was simply the product of a man who was tired of 'keeping pace with everyone else'.

Pietro's mutation was unique, mentally he moved faster than normal humans, not necessarily smarter, just faster. This meant when he viewed the world the way he naturally saw it, his body followed suit and moved at what to him was a normal pace. When he had to interact with people, he physically had to slow himself down which was very frustrating.

He once described it as standing in line at an ATM behind ten people who had no idea how to use the machine and with apparently no place else to be.

Technically he was always using his mutation, it was always on, like Rogue's, however, it was more noticeable to Cerebro when he was running. If he wanted to get through the mission without attracting the X-Men's attention he needed to stay as calm and as slow as possible.

Maintaining his composure regarding his speed, he chucked his mobile phone against the far wall as hard as he could, watching it break into pieces as it crumbled to the ground.

"Someone's grumpy," Pyro said cheekily.

"Stow it, Dundee," Pietro shot back and continued to tap against the table.

"Someone needs less caffeine," the fire mutant frowned and flopped down on the sofa, "or maybe more. I can never get that right."

"Are you okay?" Piotr asked, putting his sketchpad on the table.

"It takes effort for him to maintain a constant normal speed," Dom explained, heading over to the mini-fridge, "and everything is too slow for him."

"I see," Piotr responded and this led the quick footed mutant to snort.

"I doubt it," Pietro slid off the stool he was sitting on.

"Who was on the phone?" Dom asked quickly.

"Magneto," Quicksilver began to pace, "he wanted to know why we hadn't taken care of the situation yet. Doesn't look good, you know, having an Acolyte in custody."

"You told him Rogue was info gathering, right?" Dom asked.

"Yes," the leader continued to bore a hole in the floor, "and then Mystique not so subtly threatened me with serious bodily injury."

"See, that's a good thing," Pyro grinned from his perch, "had she really meant it she wouldn't have bothered threatening, she'd been here already and turned you into mulch."

"I don't think you're helping," Piotr frowned.

"Do we know yet when she's being moved?" Dom interrupted, knowing that Pyro liked to goad Pietro when he was like this. Usually it was Rogue's job to keep the peace but with her gone it fell to Dom.

"Don't know," Pietro shook his head, "but no later than Saturday I would think."

"Are we sure we're okay with leaving Rogue in custody that long?" Pyro asked in all seriousness.

"Rogue can handle whatever they throw at her," that was one thing Pietro could be sure about.

…

Rogue was bound in cuffs at her hands and feet, a chain connecting both. They had learned she could use any body part to absorb and did as much as they could to keep her extremities to herself. The men took precautions, wearing gloves, long sleeves, and full facial masks. They could try covering Rogue but risked her finding ways of taking things off or at least exposing a small amount of skin.

Three of the completely covered men escorted her into her cell for the night, a small room with a built in cot and a toilet behind a privacy half-wall. Not the worst kind of cell she could be stuck in, at least she could maintain some dignity as she waited.

"You know the drill, mutie," the biggest of the three pushed her forward and she scowled as she moved and sat down on the bed.

"Don't try anything," one of the others said, drawing up his taser gun along with his partner, "I don't think you want to be tasered, again."

"So many things I could say right now," she smirked but let it go, she'd already gathered tons of information regarding the CSA and its hound, Cooper, she could forgo info gathering for a night and maybe get some real sleep.

The big guy uncuffed the chain that linked her hands to her leg restraints then cuffed her hands to the bar at the end of the cot which caused her to lean over a bit. He then knelt down to get the cuffs around her ankles. As he worked the metal around to get a grip on the keyhole, he paused, then ran a gloved finger up the side of her calf. When he got to her knee with no indication of stopping, Rogue jerked her leg away.

He wasn't deterred and started to touch up the other leg causing her try to knee him but his other hand held fast on the restraints.

"What's going on?" the taser wielding man asked.

"Did you know the little mutie here can't turn off her little… gift?" Mr. Touchy-Feely chuckled, yanking the cuffs at her feet so she fell on her side and was being stretched on the bed. "Means the poor girl's never been touched."

Grunting, Rogue pulled against her restraints, trying to get some leverage to twist out of his grasp so she could kick him in the head, or preferably just below his torso. He pushed up her torn skirt and grabbed her thigh, using his knee to brace between her legs.

Only one man had ever gotten this close to her and this brute was sullying that memory, and while he couldn't go very far due to her mutation, there was plenty he could do to violate her. Anger and fear crept up on her fast as she couldn't get purchase against the bed. Tears threatened to well up behind her eyes but she wouldn't give the man the satisfaction, nor would she whimper or cry out.

"Hey, stop," Mr Taser stood up for her but he wasn't exactly forceful about it.

"Oh, let him have his fun," the third man said as Touchy grabbed her ankles and stretched her body out completely as she just managing to get loose.

With a grunt, Rogue twisted her body and kneed him slightly in the head but there wasn't enough power behind it more than to delay the man.

"This isn't fun," Taser said, his voice confused, "it's assault."

"She's a mutie," she could hear the grin in Touchy's voice, "ain't even human, they say so themselves."

"Looks like I'm in good company then," Rogue bit out, "in here with other inhuman swine."

All Touchy did was laugh at her, moving his body over hers as she continued to struggle against the cuffs.

"Stop it, Brent," Taser shouted, "this ain't right."

Touchy ignored the other man, pushing her ripped skirt up.

Seconds later there was a pop-zap and Rogue felt herself jolted, her body receiving a mild current of electricity as it passed through Touchy. Unceremoniously the man collapsed onto her, knocking the wind from her lungs. She pushed her weight against him to roll him off and onto the ground.

"What the hell," the third man knocked Taser in the shoulder. "Now we have to explain this."

"I wasn't going to let him rape her!" Taser shot back as Rogue pulled her legs under her, grabbing the bar to keep her body from trembling.

"It's not like he could actually 'rape' her," Mr Uncaring grabbed Touchy and started to pull him towards the door. "Whatever, we'll say that she knocked him out."

"What?" Taser stood silly between them.

"It's our word against yours," Uncaring then tossed the cuff key to Taser, "now sort out your girlfriend over there and let's get out of here."

Giving something between a sigh and a growl, Taser stalked over and started to uncuff her, starting at her ankles. "Don't cause any more trouble," he told her as he took the restraints off.

Trouble? Rogue nearly scoffed at him. She didn't cause any trouble, it was all Mr Touchy-Feely over there.

"You better appreciate this," he mumbled as her handcuffs came off, "I'm not going to hear the end of this from them."

Rogue wanted to open her mouth and thank Taser for helping her but she was so taken aback by his attitude, blaming her for him having to be the good guy in all this. Instead she sat numbly as he moved away and helped to drag Touchy from the room.

When the door closed, Rogue drew her legs up under her and wrapped her arms around her knees. She wouldn't cry, wouldn't make a single noise, she wouldn't let them have the satisfaction. Instead, she listened to the voices in her head, her friends, and attempted to believe them when they said everything was going to be okay.

* * *

**1X03 – Alekhine's Gun – Act III**

"How did you get yourself talked into this?" Bobby asked as he pulled Scott's tux jacket down from hanging on the closet door.

Scott himself was attempting to knot his bow tie and his third attempt was almost a charm. "I didn't, I was kinda volun-told by Betsy that I would accompany her tonight."

"Yeah, and I bet you put up a real fight there, huh," Bobby grinned while he dusted off the jacket's shoulders. "Do you think she'll mind you wearing black pants and a navy blue jacket?"

"What?" Scott's head snapped up and he looked between the trousers he was wearing and the coat in Bobby's hand… it wasn't until he saw Bobby's failed-to-hide grin that he gave a frustrated sigh, "Ha ha, pick on the guy who's color blind."

"Don't make it so easy," Bobby laughed back, but before Scott could retort he added, "so are all three of you riding with Warren or are you and Betsy going by yourselves?"

"I thought we were going in separate vehicles," Scott turned back to the mirror and tackled the tie issue again, "but Jean and Betsy were adamant it would be ecologically inconsiderate to take two cars down to the City."

"So you're going to be stuck in the back of a limo for over an hour with two beautiful women because they don't want to add to the hole in the ozone layer," Bobby was grinning even broader, "finally, a silver lining to global warming."

Sometimes Scott really wished he wasn't forced to wear glasses all the time because they really ruined the effect of rolling his eyes at a person.

Thankfully something went right and he managed to get the tie fixed up in time to hear his phone ring. Picking it up from his desk he saw that it was Fred Duncan calling.

"Hey," Scott said as he answered it.

"Summers," Fred's voice came over even and strong, "one second, securing the line."

Scott paused as Bobby gave him the nosy 'well, who is it?' look and Scott batted him away.

"That's better," the agent came back over. "I wanted to let you know Rogue is finally being moved."

"Homeland has had her there for two days," Scott frowned, "and the Acolytes and Brotherhood haven't done anything."

"We know," Duncan said grimly, "and if they were going to try something, now would be the time."

"Are they moving her overland or by air?" Scott contemplated what Magneto's next move might be.

"Classified," the agent said regretfully.

"Can you tell me where she's being moved to?" Scott tried.

"Classified," he repeated, then added, "and technically I shouldn't even be telling you this much."

"I understand," Scott frowned, wishing he knew more but trusting Duncan to look out for everyone's best interests. Glancing down at his fancy clothes, "Do you need a mutant escort?"

"Interesting idea," Duncan seemed to muse over the idea, "but I doubt anyone would go for it. Homeland has taken point but there are several military and government entities involved in this… it's one Mad Hatter short of a tea party around here."

"Right," he could only imagine what it would be like, trying to take into consideration all the possibilities of what could go down. Mystique could sneak her way through the ranks, slitting throats as she went. Sabretooth would be much less subtle. Magneto could halt a train or pull a plane from the sky. As for the Acolytes… anything goes.

The biggest question was why hadn't they attacked yet. He figured it would literally be hours before they at least attempted to rescue Rogue… surely they weren't planning on abandoning her? The Acolytes and Brotherhood may be many things which put them on the sliding scale of villainy, but when it came to their own, you could trust them to always put their fellow mutants first.

"Well," Scott finished up, "if you need us, call. If you can't get a hold of me, try 'Ro."

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Duncan said softly.

"Me neither."

…

Pryo and Dom were playing quarters on the table, attempting to bounce their perspective coins into a full plastic cup of beer. Whoever won got to drink the beer which was imported as neither could stomach American brewed.

The room looked as one would expect from four men living there for two days with no place else to go. They weren't necessarily slobs but they had gotten too used to Rogue's tendency to always clean up after them. They never asked her to do it, she just did.

He glanced over at Piotr sitting in the corner, sketching away. Sometimes he felt knew more about the quiet Russian than he did about Rogue, one of his best friends, though that wasn't saying much, and mystery was the spice of life.

Pietro walked in from the adjoining room where Piotr and Pietro had their beds. The quick footed mutant had a tendency to sleep when he had to go days without speeding. It was the easiest way for him to keep slowed down plus he did not have to suffer keeping pace with the sloths.

"Rogue's on the move," he was texting something on his new phone.

All three men glanced up at his words, now they were going to have some fun.

…

Scott shuffled uneasily in the entry hall with Bobby as he fidgeted with his tie, still unable to get it exactly right.

"I never asked," Bobby was leaning against the wall, "what is the Hellfire Club anyway?"

"A mix between the Freemasons and the Skull and Bones from what I've been told," Scott shrugged.

"So," Bobby thought about this for a second, "they are a bunch of wealthy and influential people who like to get together and pat themselves on the back?"

"Pretty much," Scott frowned, he wasn't going to enjoy this at all.

"What's their hook then?" the Iceman asked.

"Their hook?" asked Scott.

"You know, their specialty," Bobby shrugged, "Skull and Bones are out of Yale, Freemasons, dunno, built the Pyramids or something."

Scott laughed but then shook his head, "You best ask Betsy or Warren."

"Speaking of," Bobby was looking down the hall and Scott turned his head to see his 'date' and Jean walking down the hallway, Kitty trailing beside them.

Betsy was in a strapless dress, something in the red spectrum was all he could tell due to his perpetually rosy vision. A rather expensive looking set of pearls graced her neck while her hair was done up in curls.

The British bombshell got impatient with Jean who was on her cell phone and snatched it from the woman. "Warren, you driving all the way up here just to turn around and drive back, twice, is pointless. Now be a good environmentally responsible multi-billionaire and learn a little patience. We'll be with you in an hour," and with that she hung up on the man and handed back the phone, "There."

The red head had a look on her face between a thank you and a frown while Kitty giggled. Jean was dressed in something dark, likely in the green spectrum, a v neck with no sleeves, the fabric at the shoulders wrapping around in a twist to travel down one side of her back in a rope leaving much of her skin bare to the small of her back. Her hair fell in delicate waves and her jewelry was minimal, tear drop earrings, a matching necklace, a thick diamond bracelet over her right wrist, and gold colored gloves to match a sash that draped across her waist.

This wasn't the first time he had seen the woman done up in her finery but he always had to keep himself from staring.

Bobby leaned over and said, "Global warming."

Scott tried desperately not to grin or laugh and the girls simply gave the Iceman strange looks.

"Well," Betsy moved forward and took Scott's arm, "I believe the car is waiting outside."

"I could have drove," Scott frowned at her.

"What would be the fun in that?" Betsy pouted at him.

"Hey, Betsy," Bobby got her attention, "don't you worry someone might ask about your hair?"

The tall Brit, even without her six inch heels, looked down at Bobby pointedly,"I ask them how much their obviously fake tan, nose and/or hair line cost them."

Kitty giggled, "Burn!"

"Well," Scotty cleared his throat, forcing himself to stop staring at Jean, "the car is waiting."

With that the three headed outside to the waiting stretched town car, locally hired of course, that would take them to Worthington Tower. As Scott got comfortable, sitting across from Betsy and Jean… he silently thanked Global Warming, not that he'd ever tell Bobby.

…

Kitty and Bobby saw their friends off and then headed back inside the mansion. "Didn't Jean and Betsy look glamorous? Some have all the luck."

"Yeah," Bobby laughed back thoughtfully, though he was referring to Scott. "Hey, Jubes talked me into taking her, Meg, Sofia, and the new girl into town, wanna come?"

"Shopping, tempting," Kitty laughed, "but I got training with Logan here in a bit."

"You've been training every night since our last run in with the Acolytes," Bobby pointed out, "you're not really making any progress."

"Hey," she punched him in the shoulder and he shrugged it off.

"I'm just saying how it is," he defended himself, "you're not exactly built for combat, Kitty."

She stopped him in the hallway, hands on her hips, "Cause I'm a girl?"

"Cause you're a ballet dancer who's never gotten into a fight in her life," Bobby frowned at her, "it's not that you don't make a good addition to the team, your phasing and mad hacking skills are awesome, but…"

"But I'm a ninety pound weakling," she was upset and he kicked himself for letting his mouth run away from him.

"None of us want to see you get hurt," he said quietly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Kitty's jaw was clenched and she was shaking her head back and forth, he wasn't sure if she was going to cry or yell at him. Eventually she turned and stormed off down the hall.

"Kitty," he called out to her but she threw her hand up in a 'not talking to you' gesture and disappeared around a corner. Mumbling to himself, "Way to go, jerkface."

…

"Dom, spot me," Pyro had his personalized flame thrower on, he'd been itching to use it for days.

Avalanche came over and tapped at the fuel gauges, "Everything looks good, you're topped up."

"Brill," he slipped on his fire jacket then turned to his friend, "want help with your vest?"

"Yeah," Dom reached down and picked up the flak vest that he had 'acquired' earlier and pulled it across his arms. Pyro made sure it was on straight and secure before Dom pulled down the velco straps. Picking up Dom's jacket for him, Pyro helped him put it on and when the man zipped it up you could barely tell he was wearing the vest.

"Everyone ready?" Pietro asked as he put on his silver racing jacket.

"Ready," answered Dom as Pyro said, "Yeah" and Piotr, who was standing in a loose sleeveless shirt which offered no protection whatsoever, said "Da."

"Alright," Pietro looked at each one of them, "we get into positions and we wait… remember, this isn't just about getting Rogue back, we're going to be sending a message."

"What kind of message?" Piotr asked.

"That the Brotherhood, that mutants, are the superior beings," for a moment there the guy almost sounded exactly like Magneto, "and the government needs to back off."

"I don't like killing," the Russian spoke adamantly, "it is not what I agreed to."

"Don't worry big guy," Pietro grinned, "that's the beauty of pulling this off, proves that we don't have to kill humans to stop them, that we are that much better than they are."

Pyro raised his hand, "Ah, I still get to burn something down, right?"

Quicksilver nodded, "Absolutely, but we do want them to take us seriously, so no Lord of the Rings reenactments this time."

…

Storm, Jean, Jeanne-Marie, Jubilee, Rogue… even Meghan with her fairy-wings, they all looked tougher than Katherine Pryde with her naturally thin frame and wiry muscles. She was considered the school's biggest computer geek, behind Doug, and was treated as such, stereotypes and all. In truth, she hadn't always been into computers, her first love had been ballet.

Kitty had been selected to be the lead in the Nutcracker and if her mutant powers hadn't kicked in she'd still be in the Ballet Chicago school today instead of Xavier's. True, she never counted on ballet as a career, it was too much like sports, one wrong move, a torn tendon, and she would never dance again. But until that day happened, it was the most fun she could have.

Humming Swan Lake to herself as she stood in front of the wall mirror in the gym, Kitty began to tip up on her toes and spin, following the steps she had memorized years ago. Upon exiting the pirouette, she took four quick strides and then jumped, doing the splits in the air before dropping down to her toes only to bounce again.

A few more dance moves and she realized she was being watched.

"Oh, hey Logan," she said as she turned and saw him walking up the aisle of work out machines.

"Not bad there, half-pint," he gave her a rare compliment.

Kitty rolled her eyes and shook her head, "I'm a half-step off, didn't get nearly enough air on my jump or speed on my spin, and don't even mention my arches."

The Wolverine scratched his chin and frowned, "Uh, okay, looked fine to me."

"Yeah, but what do you know about ballet?" she said sarcastically. "Probably about as much as I know about fighting."

"I know that Anna Karenina jumps in front of a train at the end," he offered.

"Spoilers," Kitty replied cheekily.

"Bobby told me he put his foot in his ass earlier," Logan said bluntly.

"Is that what you guys really think," Kitty frowned, "that I shouldn't bother fighting?"

"I think you shouldn't try fighting like them," he stood up beside her. "It might have come to your attention that I'm not exactly gifted with great height."

Kitty giggled and then covered her mouth. It was true, she was almost as tall as him which meant he was the second shortest member of the team.

"Now, I recognize this, that's why I fight the way I do," he threw a few faux punches to her sides and she flinched even though she knew he wouldn't hurt her, "I dig in, go for the gut shots. If the fella is the right shape then an uppercut, right under the ribcage, explodes the heart with one claw."

"Um, ah," she knew that Logan had a pretty checkered past but she didn't really want to think about all the people he must have killed, and how, "that's gonna give me nightmares."

"There are plenty of ways to put a man down without killing 'em," Logan assured her, "we just need to figure out what works for you."

Kitty sighed, "Maybe I could get the Brotherhood to pass out from laughing so hard at my presence, little miss ballerina, I could wear a tutu and everything."

"Hhmm," he eyed her thoughtfully, "you might be onto something there half-pint."

"Wait, what?" she raised one brow.

"You have a non-threatening demeanor," he pointed out the obvious, "you can use that to get inside your target's strike zone, give yourself the element of surprise."

"Oh," it clicked for the dancer, "like a sneak attack?"

"Uh, yeah," he gave her another one of _those_ looks but continued on, "it wouldn't work twice in most cases but if you do it right, it can be very effective."

She thought about this for a long moment, running scenarios through her head, "You really think that's my niche?"

"It's a start," he nodded, "a good fighter has many weapons in his arsenal, we'll figure the rest out as we go."

"Right," she smiled, feeling much better now than when she came into the room, enough to ask a question that had been bugging her the last few minutes, "Oh hey, Logan, how do you know the ending of _Anna Karenina_?"

"A few memories still rattle up inside here," he pointed to his temple, "but I have a distinct memory of once being asked by a woman if I knew the story of _Anna Karenina_."

"Oh," she said neutrally, Logan usually wasn't one to talk about his past, especially any ladies he was ever involved with.

"Yeah," he frowned at the memory, "she followed up the question by pushing me in front of a train."

…

Rogue sat quietly in her seat on the plane, not that there was much else for her to do, seeing as her ankles were cuffed to the chair. Her hands were also bound together, the cuffs connected to a chain that wrapped around her midsection. At least her mutation had one benefit, because she was never alone she never got bored, she could always strike up a conversation with a voice.

Currently Pyro was keeping her company, telling her stories and really bad jokes. Occasionally Pietro would pop up, assuring her that he had a plan, it would be a good plan too.

She sighed, even with having her friends in her head it wasn't the same, they were too one-dimensional, missing pieces of their personalities, unable grow outside what they were, never creating new stories or thoughts. Essentially it was like talking to a bot, granted, a much more sophisticated program than anything man made, but a bot none the less.

"Won't be much longer now," Special Agent Valerie Cooper came over to sit across the aisle from Rogue.

"Yay," she replied unenthusiastically.

Cooper ignored her, "These accommodations will be something more long term."

"Will it have a day spa?" Rogue asked mock-hopefully.

"And rest assured," she continued, "there will be no further incidents like the one that happened back in Philly, the gentleman in question has been punished for such an unacceptable violation."

Rogue paused and raised one eyebrow at the woman.

"You didn't think we'd find out?" Cooper asked curiously. "I'm surprised you didn't say anything, you don't seem that type."

"And what type would that be," Rogue frowned, "mutie terrorist? I'm sure you're all just falling over yourselves to listen to anything I have to say."

"You made the choice to join the Brotherhood," the blonde pointed out, "but that aside, no woman deserves to be treated that way, it would have been properly investigated."

"Oh, brother," Rogue rolled her eyes, "I was wondering how long it was gonna take for you to try the whole 'female bonding' ploy in the good cop/bad cop routine."

"Do you really think that's my game here?" Cooper asked in all seriousness.

"Pretty much," the mutant shrugged. "I know every trick in the book, lady, felt most of them first hand via third parties," she gestured to her temple, "makes for some boring conversations."

"But surely you can detach yourself from those memories," the agent stared at her curiously, "it still wouldn't be the same as feeling them directly."

Rogue raised an eyebrow, "Trying to decide if it's worth breaking out the water-boarding?"

"Just trying to understand you better, Rogue," Cooper sighed, "because despite what you might think, the Council on Superhuman Affairs is more than simple anti-mutant rhetoric. The Brotherhood has made itself out as an enemy of humanity, if we can better understand why they feel the need to do this then perhaps we can avoid a full out war."

"I've heard this song and dance before," Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Doesn't make it any less the truth," Cooper pointed out.

"You start with pretty words and assurances," her voice was rife with disgust, "then Jews are forced into camps for the sole purpose of dying, Indians are given blankets laced with cholera and typhoid, black men are injected with syphilis as if they were lab rats, a whole nation of Congolese forced into working until they drop dead, thrown into mass graves. Forgive my cynicism but humanity doesn't have a very good track record."

"Is that your game then," the agent shook her head, "do unto others before they can do unto you?"

"Pretty much," she answered unabashedly. "I'd like to think that we could all get along, human and mutant, but really, like that's gonna happen."

"It's attitudes like that which will ensure war," Cooper frowned at her.

"Do you really think this could end any other way," Rogue laughed, "regardless of what the Brotherhood does?"

"Maybe," she said evenly.

Rogue regarded the blond for a moment, then thrust out her hands as far as she could reach in a mockery of a handshake, "Prove it."

Cooper stared down at Rogue's offered uncovered hand and while her face remained neutral, Rogue could literally see the wheels turning in the woman's head. After a good minute of no reaction from Cooper, Rogue leaned back in her chair, "Thought so."

"Rogue," Cooper sighed, "you have to realize that by perpetuating Magneto's anti-human sympathies you're only ensuring that this can do nothing but end badly."

"Sugah," Rogue smiled just a touch, "there is only one way any of this could possibly end."

"And what way is that?" the agent frowned.

Rogue ignored her question and instead asked, "Do you play chess?"

* * *

**1X03 – Alekhine's Gun – Act IV**

"I have nothing in common with any of these people," Scott commented as he and Betsy moved away from a group of individuals.

"That's okay," she smiled, slipping her arm through his, "you're only here to stand and look pretty."

He gave her a sideways glance and was about to say something when two others approached, Warren and Jean.

"Betsy," Warren said with false pleasantry, "are you finding this as incredibly conceited and boring as I am?"

"Possibly moreso," she replied with a sweetness that belied her words. "How much longer do you think we have to put up with this?"

"It would be rude to leave before they have their official introduction of the high council and Black King," he said regretfully but no one would realize that unless they could actually hear the tone of his voice.

"Black King?" Scott finally let his curiosity get the better of him.

"Like a chess board," Warren filled him in. "They have a Black and White King, Queens and Bishops. Just a fancy way of saying President, VP, etc."

"Ah," that kind of made some sense. "How much longer you think?"

"Not sure," Betsy replied as her arm slipped from Scott, "but not before I get a dance from you Warren, if you permit, Jean."

"All yours," Jean laughed stepping slightly away so that Betsy could take Warren's arm.

"This isn't an attempt to corner me about the Tokyo merger?" he said suspiciously as Betsy led him away.

"You know I have some serious investments in Tsurayaba Engineering," they heard her reply as they wandered off onto the dance floor.

The air became awkward between the two teachers and Scott cleared his throat, "Would you—"

"Miss Grey," a man's voice drew their attention. Scott looked to the side to see the interloper approach, an older, distinguished looking gentleman with brown hair, a black classical tux, and a scotch in his left hand. "What a pleasure it is to see you here."

"Yes," Jean said warily as he took her hand and gave it a mock kiss, dipping his head as if he would touch his lips to her knuckles but he was either much to polite or germaphobic to actually do such a thing, "do I know you?"

"Sebastian Shaw," he smiled as he brought his head up, "Black King of the Hellfire Club, North America."

"Congratulations on your appointment," she replied evenly.

"No need to be so defensive, my dear," he waved off her prickly demeanor, "I know about that business with your father, that was my predecessor. I assure you I have no ill will towards Doctor Grey, I'm sorry, Councilman Grey."

"While that is good to know," Jean let a small smile touch her lips, "my family's stance on the Hellfire Club, and those organizations like it, remains the same. I'm here as Warren's date, nothing more."

"I think we both know you were meant for more than just eye candy, Miss Grey," Shaw said knowingly but then quickly turned his attention to the dance floor, "the Worthington's have been assets to the Club for decades now."

"Then perhaps you should be talking to him?" Scott did not like this guy, he wasn't particularly sleazy or shady, but there was something about Shaw that made the little hairs on the back of Scott's neck stand on end.

"I shall," Shaw gave him a polite smile, then turned back to Jean, "enjoy the rest of the party, Miss Grey."

Shaw then bowed his head slightly and headed off towards other party-goers. It was when he was out of earshot that Jean said, "He's a mutant."

That caused Scott to pause, "You sure?"

"I wasn't going to peek too much," she told him, "but I wanted to do a surface scan, see what he was up to. He's had training to block telepathic scans, not even stray surface thoughts."

"That doesn't make him a mutant," Scott pointed out, though now he had a better understanding of what was bothering him.

"I said he had training," she looked at him sourly, "not that I couldn't see anything."

Scott's jaw gapped slightly, "Jean—"

"I only broke through to the surface thoughts," she quickly assured him, "at least he was truthful, he's not interested in my father, ruining his career or otherwise."

"That's something," Scott was at least glad knowing that, he didn't like the idea of someone going after her father again.

Silence fell between them and Scott wasn't exactly sure what to say, so instead he stepped forward and held his hand out in the universal gesture of asking a woman to dance. Jean smiled and accepted his offer and the two walked out to the dance floor together.

…

"We have a quarter mile curtain," one of the agents informed Cooper as Rogue stood among six guards who were completely covered to keep her from touching them. It was almost comical.

"Check points at half a mile are secure," another one said, the whole group jostling just slightly as the plane finished taxing on the runway.

"Nervous?" Rogue smiled as they felt the plane come to a stop, the ankle cuffs wrecking her balance.

"Cautious," Cooper looked at her dourly. "It's not beyond Magneto's power to pull a plane or copter from the sky."

"I doubt Magneto is even in the same country right now," Rogue assured her. "If the Acolytes have to run to him every time we have a little hiccup, then what good would we be?"

"They haven't come for you, Rogue," the agent pointed out, "they're smart enough to know that once we get to the containment facility, rescuing you will be a suicide run. They should have tried while we were in Philly."

Rogue gave her a slow grin, "Wouldn't be much of a game then would it?"

"This isn't a game," Cooper frowned.

"Game is the crossword answer for four letters meaning strategies that aren't boring," the mutant gave a light chuckle.

"We're ready," the first agent called out as the hatch opened up.

"Let's move," Cooper barked the order and two of the 'personal guard' as Rogue was starting to think of them lifted her up by her arms and literally carried her as the whole group moved to the plane door.

Rogue was hauled across the tarmac to a waiting Mi-17 military transport helicopter, her guards keeping a tight circle around her to discourage any quick-footed or teleporting mutants. With precision she was dragged into a seat on the copter and strapped in securely. The last person was barely onboard before the pilot revved the engine and brought the bird into the sky, three others right alongside it.

"ETA, ten minutes," the pilot called out though she could barely hear him over the roar of the engines.

In twenty minutes she'd either be free or a permanent guest of Homeland Security…

…

"White Queen," the announcer called and a blonde woman with striking features, almost ice colored eyes, and dressed completely in a white ball gown which showed off ample cleavage, walked down the aisle. She headed towards the four thrones which had been placed at the end of the room in front of the famous Unicorn tapestries.

The four mutants clapped politely as they stood off to the side with the rest of the attendees. Jean and Betsy exchanged glances.

"She's a telepath," Jean whispered to Warren who looked to find that very interesting.

"Black Queen," another woman, just as striking with long jet hair and a black gown with a corseted top, walked towards her seat.

"She's a mutant too," Jean told her date quietly then focused on the two Bishop's who had taken position to the rear of the thrones. "They're also mutants."

"White King," a tall blonde gentleman followed the Black Queen's steps, he had very strong facial features which almost made him look angry.

"And him?" Warren asked as he applauded.

Jean shook her head, "No, but he's the only Council member who isn't a mutant**."**

"Black King," was announced and Shaw began his walk down the aisle to take his seat at the tallest, most ornate throne.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the voice continued, "the Council of Chosen."

With that the attendees clapped louder, showing their support for their leadership. Shaw held his hand up to still the applause, "Gentleman, ladies, it has been a year of many changes, a time of rebirth for the Hellfire Club, and I, for one, am humbled and honored to be at the precipice of this new order."

This was met with more applause but Shaw continued, "To members old, new, and soon to be, let there be no more secrets between us. We are the Triumphant. We are the Proud. We are the Chosen."

The group clapped at his declaration and the man seemed to stand like a master among mice. With the naming ceremony over, and the group dispersed, the one-time Xavier students found themselves huddled together.

"It can't be a coincidence," Betsy said thoughtfully, "that many mutants on the Council. I know they've been undergoing leadership changes in the past five years, none of the council members have sat longer than that."

"Is this a bad thing though?" Scott asked. "I mean, having mutants in high level positions is good if they are working towards peaceful co-existence."

"Are they though?" Jean frowned at him. "The Hellfire Club has always been stocked with self-serving corporate execs, um, sorry Warren, Betsy."

Betsy shrugged, "Father has his moments."

"Your words are too mild," Warren replied dryly to Jean.

"But do them being mutants make them more dangerous than humans in their position?" Scott asked in all seriousness.

The three upper-class mutants glanced between each other, none felt comfortable giving an answer.

…

Once the helicopter landed on top of the three story building just a short drive from Washington D.C., Rogue was ushered out of the bird and rushed over to the stairwell. She was then taken to an open area next to a freight elevator while everyone checked in and confirmed their status.

"They never came for you," Cooper spoke neutrally, with perhaps some surprise to her voice.

Rogue simply shrugged.

"I thought the Brotherhood didn't abandon their kind?" she asked in all seriousness.

"They don't," Rogue answered simply, then a smile crept onto her face, "we didn't get to finish our conversation."

"Yes," Cooper frowned, "you asked me about chess. I told you I play from time to time."

"Quicksilver loves chess, it's his favorite game, but it's so hard for him to find someone challenging enough to play," the mutant was unexpectedly candid, "and it has to be someone who really knows chess. Not just the rules, but the plays. Like the difference between a King's Knight Gambit and a Bishop's Gambit, that kind of thing."

"That wouldn't be me then," Cooper admitted.

"Oh, he'd hate playing you," she let out a little laugh. "There is no fun to be had playing those who don't know the moves that guarantee a win, you know why?"

"Because they'd have a poor offense," the agent suggested.

"Wrong," she continued to smile, "because for every famous offense move, there is a defense made to beat it."

Cooper eyed her warily, "But if you don't know the offense movies, you don't know the defensive ones either, you'd get walked all over.

"Exactly," she said sweetly in her country accent, "what fun is it to win the war when your opponent doesn't even realize the enemy is at the gates?"

…

"You ready?" Quicksilver stood behind Dom and Piotr, the later with binoculars to his eyes, scanning the compound.

"Ready," Piotr nodded, putting away the binoculars.

"Ready," Avalanche slipped on a helmet like the one SWAT teams use.

"Right," Pietro moved his shoulders and stretched his back, "I'll get you inside the perimeter, the rest is up to you. Take a deep breath," the second he finished that sentence he ran off behind them and then turned around to head back in their direction.

Avalanche was a broad, stoutly build man, while Colossus was a tall, muscular, Russian… there was no way Quicksilver would be able to pick up either of them, let alone both at the same time. So, using inertia, he ran at the men and grabbed them by the repelling harnesses around their waists. He not so much as carried them but dragged them with him as he ran the half mile into the compound, unavoidably tripping the perimeter alarms.

Instantly, weapons started to target the streak of light, attempting to lead the object. Slipping around the side of the building, Quicksilver let go of Avalanche first, the man rolling to the ground, planting himself firmly as he began to uproot the Earth around him to create a shield.

Quicksilver made it to the other side of the building and let go of Colossus who also had to tuck and roll, his whole body turning to steel as he did so. When he got to his feet, bullets from the automatic defenses bounced harmless off of him, only ripping his shirt lightly.

Ignoring the gnat-like annoyance, Colossus turned to the building. Reaching up with one balled metal fist he proceeded to punch the wall.

…

Alarms started to go off, Cooper instantly asked for a status report.

"Maximoff triggered the perimeter alarm," a man called back on the radio, "we have Petrakis and Rasputin confirmed on the ground."

Cooper looked to Rogue, "Only a crazy person would attack here, this is a fortress."

"You believe so much that no one would bother attempting to assault your stronghold," Rogue smirked, "are you actually, truly, prepared for it to happen?"

It was not a good sign for Cooper that she had to think about that, "They might get past the outer defenses, but they will never make it past the security checkpoints."

"Who needs doors when you have a Colossus?" Rogue smirked and the building proceeded to shake.

"They're breaking through the outer walls!" the voice came back over the radio.

"They've broken the perimeter?" Cooper asked.

"No, they are literally breaking through the walls," he said it like he wouldn't believe it if he wasn't watching it for himself.

Cooper was bound and determined not to let it faze her, she turned to the lead guard, "Hold her here, they'll have to search level by level to find her, we'll try to cut them off before then. The shape shifter could have snuck in with the distraction, remember the code words. I'm heading to the security room."

"Yes ma'am," the guard nodded.

With one last trying-not-to-be-frustrated glance at Rogue, Special Agent Cooper ran down the hall towards the security suite.

Rogue chuckled to herself, "And that's Check."

…

Dom ducked down, his palm on the tiled floor, feeling the concrete underneath. In seconds the entire hallway became unstable and cracked, sending the attacking agents to the floor below and trapping others on the other end of the newly opened pit.

Before the men got their wits back and started shooting, he kicked open the door he had been going for. Two shots rang out and hit the flak vest dead on. Dom grunted but otherwise took the hit. While the concussion wave alone would be enough to knock a person down, Dom wasn't most people.

Instantly he stomped the ground and sent the whole area trembling. This gave him enough of a distraction to get to the three men in the room and take them out with blows to the head or stomach.

"I'm in a security room," he said into his radio as he looked for a USB port on the console. "Plugging in now."

"Right," Pyro's voice came over the video, "hacking into the system."

…

Cooper made it to one of the security rooms on the third floor, "Talk to me."

"Petrakis and Rasputin are wrecking the first floor," one of the lead agents pointed to the cameras.

"This building was built to withstand two 9.8 earthquakes hitting back to back," she watched as Colossus bashed through a wall rather than confront an ambush point, "unless they specifically go for all the load bearing pylons we don't have to worry about a collapse."

"The Marines are on their way," another agent called from a communications desk, "eta five minutes."

"Do we even have five minutes?" Cooper asked a rhetorical question.

Loud explosions could be heard from outside the building.

"Outside cameras, now," Cooper directed the agent sitting in front of her. When the image popped up on the main screen seconds later they could see a streak of light that was Maximoff running around the grounds, setting off the landmines but getting out of the way quickly enough not to get hurt. "He's opening an escape corridor, let's make sure they can't use it. Bring up the blueprints."

The image changed and the agent glanced between both the map and where the two mutants were currently located. "I want whatever agents we have left on the first and second floors brought here, here, and here. We'll choke point them. Third floor agents, here and here."

There was a flurry as the security team spoke into the radios to direct the battle.

"We're missing something here," Cooper chewed on her lip, seeing only three mutants. "Where is Allerdyce?"

And that's when all the screens went black.

…

Pyro sat in the back of a van, far away from the battle at hand, tapping away on his computer.

"I got control," he said into the radio. "The perimeter guns are on a separate closed system, but I'm opening all electronically closed locks and energy grids… now."

"We're Rogue?" Dom asked.

The fire mutant scanned the video feeds quickly, "Third floor, northwest corner, hunkered in with six body guards and a dozen agents."

"Colossus," Pietro spoke up, "you're closer, take point. Dom, make your way across the building."

"Don't go for the stairwell Dom," Pyro informed, "you got a flood of agents there, you'll have to get across then go up."

"I will open the way," Colossus said as Pyro watched him punch through another wall on the camera.

"It'll take them about four minutes to break my hack," he told them, "I'm going to go do my part."

"Let's do this in two," Pietro said, "and Pyro, remember what I said."

"Yes sir," he said with a little disappointment.

Pyro grabbed a little black box as he hopped out of the back of the van. In the distance, military trucks could be seen gaining speed on the road. The mutant pressed the first button on the box, the primer. Counting to five in his head, he then pressed the second button.

Eight strategically placed gas canisters lining the sides of the road exploded into huge fireballs. Instantly Pyro latched onto them, bending them to his will, creating a massive wall of flame about as deep as a football field and almost half a mile wide… there was no way the military trucks would get through, not without stopping and taking time to examine the situation, a costly delay.

The fire mutant grinned to himself, "None shall pass."

…

Rogue stood amongst her guards, picking at a fingernail as she waited. Another rumbled went through the building and she could hear explosions outside. She was missing all the action.

A glint of silver caught her eye and she looked up to see Colossus walking down the hallway. The agents opened up fire but the bullets merely pinged off his metal chest. Coming across the first agents, he swiped at them and sent them flying against the wall, knocking them out cold.

The path clear for the more heavily armed guards, their automatic rifles sending multiple projectiles in his direction, they only slowed him down slightly as he absorbed the pressure waves as the bullets were unable to pierce his skin. When he reached the guards he sent them down too, grabbing one of the rifles and crushing it in his bare metal hand.

Soon it was just the two mutants standing.

"Heya Piotr, how you been?" Rogue asked conversationally as she bent over to grab the keys to her cuffs from one of the fallen guards.

"I have been well, thank you," he said just as politely.

"That's good," she sat down and unlocked the chains around her hands, feet and waist.

There was a crash and Avalanche came running down the hall, "Well, they aren't getting through there any time soon."

"And neither are we," Rogue frowned, walking over to two agents she particularly wanted to absorb but hadn't had the chance to.

"Don't worry," Dom gestured at the doors behind them, "we have another escape root planned."

Nodding, Rogue followed as Avalanche lead the way, the two men taking point, two Rooks guarding the Queen.

…

Cooper stood at the blocked hallway, her mind thinking a mile a minute.

"How do they expect to get out?" one of the agents asked. "The ground is saturated with agents and they just blocked their only way out unless… they're going to drop the floors."

"No," it all became clear to her, how could she have missed it? "There has to be another way around, this way," she ran down the hall and turned a corner. She couldn't let them escape.

…

Rogue kissed the pilot and let him slump to the ground as they stood on the roof.

"You good to go?" Dom asked as they piled into the helicopter.

"We'll run out of fuel before I forget how to fly this bird," she nodded and hopped into the pilot's seat, "but we'll get far enough."

Hands working on instincts that weren't hers, Rogue hit all the right levers and buttons to get the helicopter running. Dom and Piotr sat in the back, the latter returning to his fleshy form. Within a minute, Rogue was lifting the copter off the ground, heading North.

…

Cooper made it onto the roof just in time to see the copter fly off, too far away now to be shot down and with everyone on the ground...

A flash of light and she could see Maximoff disappear, he was long gone, having done his job as a decoy…

The stronghold was a wreck, it would take months to put it back together. Rogue was right, if you don't know all the moves, you can't defend yourself against them. But now that they knew this one, they would build a better base, one that would be invulnerable to such an attack as this.

But until then… "Check and mate."

* * *

**1X03 – Alekhine's Gun – Tag**

"Hey, Kitty," James caught up with the girl as she was walking down the hall towards the rec room, "I can't be your sparring partner after class Monday, I'm covering Ben's shift in the motor pool."

"That's okay," Kitty nodded at him as they walked into the room together, "it'll probably be more of me making a fool of myself."

"You're learning," JP was standing at the pool table with Logan and Bobby who was lining up his shot, "takes time to hone skills and find what works for you."

"What works for me, huh?" she raised an eyebrow and looked between them, still remembering the 'weakling' comment Bobby made about her the day before.

Her eyes falling in line with Wolverine's he gave her the most imperceptible nod as he if he knew what she was thinking…

Striking out at the biggest threat first, JP, Kitty drove her foot into his gut. Being that he was completely unsuspecting of the attack he did nothing to soften or avoid the blow and it sent him reeling. He may be invulnerable but he still felt the pain of pressure. Using the fact that he was now bent at the waste she drove her elbow into the point between his neck and back and sent him to the floor.

Turning rapidly she grabbed the stunned James' arm and twisted, pulling him forward and pivoting to throw him over her shoulder onto a vacant chair which happened to be nearby.

Bobby was next, phasing through the pool table Kitty solidified as soon as she was clear and planted her hands on the edge of the table. Pushing off she lifted both feet and struck him square in the chest and he went flying back against Wolverine who caught the man and then let him fall to the floor relatively unharmed.

Seeing that all three men were still down, Kitty threw up her hands and let out a big "Woo who!" while jumping up and down, the rest of the students staring slack-jawed at her.

Wolverine gave her an approving grin, he was right, she could use her seemingly 'unthreatening' nature to give her the advantage of a sneak attack.

JP grabbed the edge of the pool table and dragged himself up, staring at Kitty with a look between anger, disbelief, embarrassment, and approval.

She chewed on her lip, "I'm getting detention for this, aren't I?"

"Oh, yeah," JP said a tad breathlessly as the other two men struggled to their feet.

Kitty grinned, "So worth it."

…

It was late when the hired car pulled up to drop Jean, Scott and Betsy back at the Xavier School.

"That was fun," Betsy smiled at Scott, "you should get dressed up more often."

Scott wasn't exactly sure what to say to that but thankfully the girl sauntered off down the hall before he had a chance to respond.

"Well," Jean fidgeted with her hair, "goodnight, Scott."

"Goodnight, Jean," he smiled at her and after an awkward moment of silence between them, the woman turned to head towards the stairs. "Jean…"

"Yes, Scott?" she turned partially towards him.

"You, ah, you looked very good tonight," he immediately wanted to kick himself for his stumbling.

"Thank you," she smiled, "you too."

He watched as she ascended the stairs and let out a long sigh. Maybe one of these days he'd actually work up the courage to ask her out… but he took solace in knowing it probably wouldn't be a good idea anyway seeing as they were friends and coworkers.

…

A Ford Mustang pulled up to a converted warehouse somewhere in New York City, hidden from the prying eyes of the government and Xavier's Cerebro. The garage door opened and the vehicle slipped inside, once there, the four Acolytes immerged, tired and worn.

It had been too long since they had been back to this place.

Heading through the multi-car garage, they walked into the expanse of a living area complete with a fifty-two inch television in front of couches and chairs. Off to the side through an arch was a full gym. A full service kitchen was set towards the back. It was a bachelor's paradise with a bit of a woman's touch.

Above it, a second story was lined with several locked doors, each with names or symbols on them denoting who they belonged to, such a flammable sign on Pyro's. A keen eye would note that there were more than four rooms.

"Be it ever so humble," Pyro said reverently as they unceremoniously dropped their duffels on the ground.

"No place like home," Rogue finished the quote, heading towards the stairs, "I'm taking a very long bubble bath, no one bother me unless it's the Apocalypse."

"Someone is going to have to restock the kitchen," Dom commented as he headed in that direction to see what food they had left.

"Not it," Pyro flopped down on the sofa, snatching the remote from the table.

Rogue was still dressed in her tattered clothing and couldn't wait to get into something more comfortable and covered much more skin. As she headed to her room she passed a door which bore no name, only a pentagram.

…

In a completely different region of New York City, a cab pulled up outside a typical looking brick apartment building. Nothing overly fancy, modest even, or as close as the City got to modest before falling into the slums.

The bulky figure of Piotr paid off his cabby and headed inside. He trudged up the stairs with heavy steps, not so much tired of body but of soul. At least no one really got hurt this time. A few bruises, a possible concussion or two, but nothing that couldn't be recovered from.

His apartment was sparsely furnished, a simple card table and folding chairs in the kitchenette, a worn sofa in front of a modest television. However, the space was not empty. Canvases of every size were stacked against each other on any available wall space. The coffee table in front of the sofa was littered with bottles of paint and brushes. The walls themselves were hung with beautiful landscapes of his home in Siberia…

Next to the window was an easel with his current work in process.

Sitting down on the stool in front of it, he opened the curtain to let in light. Grabbing a bottle of distilled water he filled his paint brush cup then poured some pigments onto his board. With every new brushstroke he attempted to forget why he was there, why he was doing this, but the reasons were never far from his mind.

Just beyond the canvas, always in his eye line, was a simple framed photo of two people. The taller one was Piotr himself, smiling shyly at the camera. The other was of a younger blonde haired girl, and while they did not share the same hair coloring, there was no mistaking the shape of the eyes and line of the jaw…

His snowflake.

* * *

_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**_

* * *

**On the next episode of **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series…**_

_— "A new mutant has manifested, somewhere outside Juneau, Alaska." – Xavier_  
_"Aren't you from Alaska?" – Jean-Paul to Scott_

_—"SCOTT!" – young!Alex_  
_"ALEX!" – young!Scott_

_—"Jim Colt? Your personal stylist is Jim Colt?" – Meg_

_—"I'd like to speak with Mr Silvercloud." – Storm_  
_"Do you have an appointment?" – Receptionist_  
_"Tell him, it looks like it might storm."_

_—A plane roughly flies through the stormy night, lighting strikes it…_

_—"Figured since I was back in town I'd go see Irene." – Rogue_

_—"Damn it, Scott, I need you to do this for me, okay." – Christopher Summers_

_—"Forge…" – Storm_

_**Episode 1X04 – Midsummer Night's Dream**_

* * *

**1X03 – Alekhine's Gun**

Written by JayCee

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

Executive Producer – JayCee  
Co-Producer – Chellerbelle  
Script Consultant – ginchy

Shooting Location: The Cloisters - Metropolitan Museum of Art – NYC

This is an unofficial fan site. It is not sponsored, licensed, or approved by Marvel Characters, Inc, Marvel Studios, Marvel Entertainment, 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, Fox Broadcasting Company, Ford Motor Company, or any other entities which may receive direction mention.

"X-Men" is a registered trademark of Marvel Characters, Inc.

All original content Copyright © 2012-2013 JayCee and xmenthefanficseries DOT com  
All trademarks are properties of their respective owners.


	6. 1X04 – Midsummer Night's Dream

**Notes: **I have to say I'm very proud of this episode. When ginchy (the script consultant) read it, she told me I actually make her feel/like two of her least favorite characters.

If you haven't already, check out my blog xmenthefanficseries DOT com to get the sneak peak at Gambit's arrival in episode 1X09 _King of Hearts_.  
Big thank you to those who are reading! I can't thank you enough. :)

* * *

_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**__**  
**_

**Episode #: **1X04  
**Title: **Midsummer Night's Dream

**Summary:** Scott is haunted by memories as the team heads to Alaska to track a newly manifested mutant. Storm confronts an old friend and digs up painful memories of her own.

* * *

**Previously… on **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**_

—"_Any luck with your friend, Mr Silvercloud?" – Duncan_

—"_You want to learn how to fly?" -Scott_  
_"Yeah, I think it'd be fun." – Jean_

—"_You want to do something, most everyone else's mutations do something, even if it's kinda simple, yours is purely cosmetic." – Jubilee_

—"_She's a mutie, ain't even human, they say so themselves." – Touchy-Feely Guard_

—"_You're supposed to set the alarm off, not bypass it." – Wolverine_  
_"Of course, force of habit." – Storm_

—"_You want me to talk to her, one winged mutant to another." – Warren_

—"_X-Men, they call themselves the X-Men." – Rogue_

* * *

**1X04 – Midsummer Night's Dream – Teaser**

The wind was deafening, whipping through the hole in the hull, knocking around everything that wasn't nailed down.

There was screaming and yelling, alarms going off.

"Scott!" he heard his name yelled as the plane jerked due to the turbulence, thunder cracking outside. A body went flying sideways towards the ripped fuselage.

"Alex!" he shouted back, one arm gripping the seat while the other reached for his brother. He almost had him, if he could just reach a little farther…

More thunder and lightning accompanied the heavy rain screaming in the night. The plane jerked again, the engine catching on fire. Random bits came tumbling down the aisle, this time straight at Alex who was trying to hold on, the boy pelted with boxes and bags.

Unable to hold on as the plane was now tilted on its side, Alex slid towards the opening, desperately grabbing at the floor for any handhold.

"ALEX!" Scott screamed in vain as his brother disappeared into the turbulent night.

"_ALEX_!" Scott bolted upright in his bed, eyes clenched tightly shut, his breath ragged, naked chest drenched in sweat.

Blindly reaching out to his side table, Scott grabbed his ruby glasses and slipped them on. Cautiously he opened his eyes, irrationally afraid that his glasses could somehow be switched in the night. But then was it truly irrational to be afraid of his mutation?

With a heavy sigh he threw his legs over the side of the bed and headed towards the bathroom. Hitting the light as he entered, he shut the door and locked it. He then turned off the main lights and flipped the second switch which had been installed during one of the renovations.

Instead of white light, the room was flooded with red from a compressed-xenon-gas bulb which produced red light at a specific resonating frequency. Slipping off his glasses he let his eyes adjust to the partial dimness the light created and then looked at himself in the mirror.

Red.

Everything was tinged with red.

He looked down at the hands which failed to grab his brother and all he saw was red.

Rubbing his forehead, he decided to take his morning shower, he was up, might as well.

…

There was a knock and he quickly slid on his clean shirt, his hair still a little wet when he went to answer the door.

"Scott," Jean Grey greeted him with a smile.

"Jean," he smiled politely at her, "it's a bit early."

"The Professor wants to see us," she told him, "he found a new mutant."

"Right," he nodded and moved forward to join her in the hall, "you could have messaged me," he tapped his temple.

"What would have been the fun in that," she smiled broadly at him. He was told her hair was bright red but everything was some shade of red to him, her lips a glossy sheen of vivid crimson.

Though some days he fancied he could see the blue of her eyes.

…

The team, minus Storm as she had other plans for the day, stood in Cerebro's room, the Professor sitting at the console, bringing a map up on the display.

"What do we know?" Scott asked he studied the information, most of the colors on the readout all shades of red.

"A new mutant has manifested," the Professor told them, "somewhere outside Juneau, Alaska. I'm attempting to get a fix on a more direct location."

"Aren't you from Alaska?" JP asked as they waited.

"Anchorage," he told the man automatically.

"Oh, this should be nice for you then," the man said conversationally, beingsociable, but all Scott could see was red.

"It'll take several hours to get there," Scott spoke up as he did the math, something which came naturally to him in regards to flight times, "we'll have to do a stop over to refuel on the way."

"I'll have more for you by the time you reach Juneau," the Professor gave a nod.

"Alright," he looked around at the team, "anyone who wants to come, be ready and in the lobby in thirty minutes."

…

"Finish storing the luggage, would you," Scott asked of Jean and Jean-Paul as he went to board his Cessna, "I'm gonna do the pre-flight check."

"Sure," she smiled at him and went to moving one of the bags off to the side, the group was going to have to stay overnight considering how long the ride was. Also, they couldn't be sure they would find the new mutant right away. Thankfully it was already the weekend.

She watched out of the corner of her eye to see Scott pull off his regular ruby specs and put on his visor, knowing he wore it when he flew because there was less risk of it coming off. She also knew why he was so afraid of something like that happening… again.

"JP," Jean got the man's attention as he put the last bag into the tail end storage compartment.

"Yeah," he responded, frowning at the bag which wouldn't quite fit.

"You know Scott lost his family, right?" she tried to remember what all might have been told to the man.

"Hmm?" he pushed at the edge of the bag and managed to get it wedged in, "oh, yeah, that's how he got this plane, insurance payout went into a trust until he turned eighteen or something like that?"

Jean glanced back to make sure Scott was still in the cabin. Even though she didn't have to physically look, she needed a second to decide what was appropriate, "Scott's family was from Anchorage, he was born there, but his father was a pilot in the Air Force and they were stationed in Hawaii for several years."

"Okay," she had his full attention now.

"On a trip back from visiting his grandfather," she continued, quietly, "the plane hit some really bad weather, a lot of things went wrong," she didn't really want to give him the details seeing as she was one of the very few who Scott had decided to share them with, "he was the only one to survive."

JP glanced over her shoulder to the cockpit, "Damn."

"He doesn't talk about it," she confided in him, "he got his pilot license and bought this plane as kind of a, well, therapy I guess."

"I can see that," he nodded his understanding, the engine turning over, drowning out their voices as they closed the compartment.

"He's a great pilot," she wasn't sure if there were any reservations on JP's part but she felt the need to say it, "but flying back to Alaska isn't exactly a homecoming for him."

It took a second for the man to put two and two together about his statement earlier, "Right, sorry, I'll keep that in mind."

"You didn't know," she assured him and moved to close the door.

…

Scott looked over his shoulder as Jean and JP climbed aboard, shutting the door behind them.

"Jean," he called back to her, "I want you up front with me, we can work on your flight training."

"I've had one lesson so far," she remarked but was smiling as she slipped into the co-pilots chair.

"Good," he handed over a clipboard, "you can double check me, see what you remember."

"Alright," she took the item and started to glance between it and the control panel.

Looking over his shoulder he frowned, "Kitty, swap seats with Bobby, I want you on the same side as Logan."

"Ah, okay," the girl frowned with confusion and stood from her seat, Bobby mimicking her actions.

"Balancing the load," he told them, "having Metal Bones onboard screws up my carrying capacity calculations anyway."

"Hey," Bobby said indignantly, "I'm not _that_ much heavier than her."

Everyone gave him a look ranging between amused and droll.

"You all just called me fat," he pointed around as he flopped down on his seat, "I hope you realize that."

This gained another set of giggles and snickers as Scott turned back to the console.

Jean put the clipboard up in the small overhead compartment. "Everything looks good to me."

"Then let's taxi to the runway," he took controls and started to drive the plane forward.

Soon they would be up in the wild blue yonder… but all Scott would see was red.

* * *

**_X-Men: The (fan fic) Series_**

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

* * *

**1X04 – Midsummer Night's Dream – Act I**

Meg chose to wear a hat to cover her pink hair. Sure, no one would really give her a second glance walking around with off-colored hair in the middle of New York City, but she still felt self-conscious about it which made her feel perhaps a tad silly.

The cab pulled up outside a tall brick building and Miss Munroe exited first, looking very tall and exotic with her dark velvet skin and silk white hair, like she belonged in the fashion district. She paid the cabby as Meg scooted out and joined her on the sidewalk. It wasn't long before both of them where on the seventh floor of the building being greeted by Warren in the reveal room of Madame LeFlore's _Tailor Made_ Boutique.

"'Ro, Meg, I'd like to introduce Madam LeFlore," he gestured to an older, slightly plump lady wearing a dress that could only be described as 'high fashion' seeing as no one other than those in the fashion industry could get away with wearing it, "she works wonders with strategically placed Velcro and folds."

"Warren is too kind," she smiled and gestured towards Meg, "now, let us see these beautiful wings of yours."

A bit timidly, Meg pulled off her floor length jacket. Since her wings were like a butterfly's and could flex a little over 180 degrees, she could tip them down and not have to worry about her coat getting caught on them like Warren did. She let her wings flutter a moment because they felt a bit stiff from being held down for so long and then settled.

"I like the color palette," LeFlore nodded, "I'm thinking bold colors but we'll see what Jim has to say on that."

"He should be here any minute now," Warren looked at his watch and was distracted by the sounds of someone in the outer room, "speaking of which."

"Sorry I'm late," the dapper, older gentleman in a grey suit with silver hair said as he walked in, "no excuse for it, so I'll just be fashionable and call it good."

Meg blinked, she couldn't believe her eyes, "Jim Colt? Your personal stylist is Jim Colt?"

"I only hire the best," Warren shrugged it off.

"Well, I wouldn't call myself the best," Jim played it off, "but I won't argue." He laughed and turned towards Meg, "This must be Megan, what a striking young woman."

"You know about mutants?" Storm eyed the famous stylist and TV personality warily.

"I'm in fashion," he waved her off as if that explained everything.

"I trust Jim completely," Warren assured the headmistresses, "and Madam LeFlore. Meg's in good hands."

Storm considered this for a long moment then conceded any objections with a nod of her head.

"I was thinking bold colors," LeFlore gestured to Meg.

"Yes," he crossed his arms but then lifted one hand to hold his chin, "definitely want to embrace the daring of her coloring. I'm thinking whimsical, not fairy costume, but light and fun. Appropriate for a girl her age."

"I like it," LeFlore nodded in agreement, "I have a blue fabric that will make the yellow in her wings just pop."

"Um," Meg laughed nervously, "sounds good."

"Come," LeFlore gestured towards the work room, "let's get your measurements and do some sketches."

…

Storm watched as Meg was led away, knowing they would be awhile.

"Are you going to be here Warren?" she turned to the man.

"Ah, yes," he was looking down at his cell phone, sending emails. "I promised Jean I'd talk to Meg, but I know better than to interrupt either of those two at this stage. I'll have time later."

"Would you mind if I left Meg in your care for a bit?" she asked but left little room for it to be a question.

The man glanced up, "What are you up to, 'Ro?"

"I need to pay someone a visit," she told him simply.

Warren gave her a rueful smile, there was only one person she could be going to see in New York City.

…

"Alright," Rogue and Dom sat the last bags of groceries on the kitchen counter, the area now littered with them, and Rogue look pointedly at Pietro, "we did the hard part."

With a shrug, Pietro was off like a streak of silver light, taking the few hundred dollars of groceries, legitimately bought because no sense in causing trouble over some literal spilt milk, and putting them up in the cabinets and refrigerator in record time, even the plastic bags were thrown in the recycle.

"There," he said when he was done, "if you can't find anything don't come crying to me."

"Thanks mate," Pyro gave him a pat on the shoulder and headed over to open one of the cabinets, then the next one, and the one after that, "hey, where's my Vegemite?"

"I hid it," Pietro drolled, "so you'd stop perpetuating the stereotype."

"Hey!" the fire mutant got indigent, pointing his finger at their leader, but then his eyes shifted and he smiled, "Oh! Treasure hunt!"

"That should keep him occupied for awhile," Pietro rolled his eyes as the rest of them headed into the living area portion of the warehouse. On the sofa was Pietro's duffle which he grabbed and slung over his shoulder, "I'll be gone a few days, contact me if you need me, but after recent events I think some continued downtime is in order. Any questions before I go?"

"Magneto has no missions for us?" Rogue frowned.

"Not as yet," Pietro shook his head. "He's acting on some of the information you obtained during your captivity but keeping us out of it, trying not to make it too easy for them make the connection."

"Right," she nodded, it made sense.

"Like I said, take a few days, all of you," he looked between the three of them. "Anything else?"

They shook their heads and instantly Quicksilver disappeared with nothing but a hint of a breeze in his wake.

"Do you know where he's gone?" Avalanche asked her.

"You've asked me that before," she looked up at the man, "and the answer is the same, yes I do, and it's nothing you have to worry about."

The Greek spread his hands in acquiesce and headed over to the sofa to crash in front of the TV, "What do you think Pyro," he turned his head towards the man who was still going through the cabinets, "want to hit the bar tonight?"

"Yeah," he said distractedly, "sure."

Dom then looked at Rogue, "You coming too?"

"Maybe," she frowned as she thought about it, "if I get back in time, don't wait for me though."

"Where you going?" he asked curiously as he flipped channels to _Bar Rescue_.

"Figured since I was back in town I'd go see Irene," she shrugged, leaning slightly on the sofa.

"Ah," he nodded, "how has she been?"

"Same old, I guess," Rogue frowned again, "she's been taking everything pretty well since her and momma got into that fight," she shook her head lightly, "but then she probably saw it coming."

…

"Why does four of a kind beat a full house?" Kitty asked impatiently in the cabin.

"It's all about the odds," Logan replied gruffly.

"Ugh," came her exasperated sigh and the shuffling of cards.

Scott looked over his shoulder to see the four passengers playing poker, though because there was no central table and moving back and forth across the aisle a lot could make things complicated, flight wise, they settled for five card stud instead of Texas Hold'em.

"You can join them," he commented to Jean who was looking down at her FAA-approved touchpad.

"Hmm?" it took her a second to realize what he was talking about, "I'm good, rereading my flight training manual, seeing what didn't get absorbed the first time."

"So you're going to keep with the lessons then?" he asked her conversationally and frowned when he realized it might have come off as condescending.

Jean gave him a little smile, tugging at the corner of her lips, "It will be a tough fit between teaching, working on my grad thesis, and of course this whole X-Men thing, but I think I'll manage."

"I didn't mean to insinuate—"

"I know what you meant," she assured him with a small laugh, "but yes, I'm going to get my flight time in."

"Good to know," he had a thought, "how about you take her for a bit?"

"What," her eyes widened a little, "now?"

"Sure," he gestured to the red sky, "it's clear out, turbulence is minimal, and I'll be right here."

Jean took a long breath and let it go slowly as she considered his offer, "Okay, but one lesson, that's all I've had, remember."

"You'll do fine, you're a fast learner," he assured her and watched as she put her hands on the controls to release the Cessna from autopilot, "just keep her steady on the horizon."

"Steady on the horizon," she repeated, eyes intent on the console.

He smiled at her, noting that she had done everything correctly and there was a little dip on the changeover, but overall she was doing a great job of just flying straight. It seemed like a simple, basic thing, keeping the plane even, but it was an extremely important lesson to start with.

"Okay, my deal," Kitty said and he once again heard the crack shuffling of the cards, "one, two, three, four," she spoke aloud as she parceled them out, "one, and two, and three, and four."

"_One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!"  
_

Scott gripped his brother's hand in his as their thumbs began to attack each other, trying to pin one down. He almost got Alex's thumb but his brother was just that much quicker and was able to get on top of his thumb, pressing down hard.

"Hah!" Alex squeakily shouted, "I win, again!"

"You know," Scott was annoyed, as one gets when they are fourteen and lose to their twelve year old sibling, _again_, "one of these days you need to let your big brother win."

"Sure," he beamed back at him, "a week from never."

Rolling his eyes he adjusted his ruby quartz glasses which were perched on top of his head. About to come up with a retort, the plan rocked suddenly.

"I got it," his father said as he started to fiddle with the controls.

"What was that," his mother asked as she moved into the co-pilot seat after another rough bump.

"Just turbulence," he commented, getting the plane under control but it was still shuddering, rain starting to pelt against the windscreen.

"The reports did call for a little weather," she pulled a clipboard from between the seat and console, "we're not too far out from Kaneohe, or do you want to try to make it to Hickam?"

There was another sudden drop, not too bad, but one Scott definitely felt in his stomach.

"Call in to Kaneohe," his father told her, "it's looking pretty bad out there, this isn't 'a little' weather."

His mom picked up the radio transceiver and asked for the Marine Air Base at Kaneohe on Oahu Island, requesting leave to land due to the storm.

Knuckles white on the control stick, his father glanced back at them, "You boys buckled in tight?"

"Yeah, dad," Scott replied back, checking his brother's seatbelt as well.

"Good," he nodded and put his full attention back to flying, "we'll be landing soon, just going to be a little bumpy. Everything is going to be fine."

_The plane started to rock slightly and on instinct Scott's hands gripped the controls._

"Sorry," Jean called back into the cabin.

"Only an air pocket," he told her, "can't avoid them, just don't over-correct."

"Right," she nodded and took another long breath, checking the gauges. "Where are we going to layover?"

"Hudson Bay, Saskatchewan," and as an afterthought he added, "and we'll stop there on the way back, you can go on your beer run then, if you must."

There was a snicker from Logan.

"You know, the _M2_ is great, Scott," Jean seemed a little timid about her next words, "but she's limited on her flight time being a personal aircraft," she chewed on her lip a bit, "if we're serious about taking on the Brotherhood, we're going to need something that can travel a lot farther, across the world even."

"I had thought of that," he sighed, he his loved plane but he was limited to North America unless he did a lot of layovers, crossing the Atlantic or Pacific was almost completely out. "I'll look into it, see about any planes for sale some of the other pilots might know about, maybe we can talk the Professor into getting something bigger."

"Oh," Bobby's indignant voice called from the back, "you are not messing up my budget for next year! I have that thing mapped out! With graphs!"

The cabin erupted in laughter and Scott turned back to stare out at the clear… red… sky. Not a storm cloud in sight.

…

Ororo Munroe entered the lobby of Forge Technologies, an R&D firm which housed some of the industry's brightest engineers and fabricators. Needless to say, security was tight with guards posted at all the entrances, metal detectors compulsory, and names badges with fingerprinting a necessity.

Striding up to the front desk, her presence alone was enough to get the receptionists attention.

"Can I help you?" one of the three receptionists asked.

"Yes," Ororo smiled, "I'd like to speak with Mr Silvercloud."

"Do you have an appointment?" she said the words knowing full well Ororo didn't.

"No," Ororo admitted easily, "but give him a ring and tell him there is a woman in the lobby who would like to discuss the weather. It looks like it might storm."

* * *

**1X04 – Midsummer Night's Dream – Act II**

Ororo was greeted at the front desk by a plain looking gentleman in a decently expensive suit, "Miss Monroe?"

"Yes?" she asked as she looked up from a Forge Technologies pamphlet which listed all the different industries the company was involved in, from prosthetics to jet propulsion.

"Raymond Bond," he offered his hand, "Mr Silvercloud's personal assistant. He is currently in the middle of an experimental engine test," the man added lightly, "he'll be finished in about half an hour or so, would you like to wait?"

"I don't see a choice in the matter," she answered dryly.

"Then would you follow me, please?" the assistant proceeded to lead her through two security checkpoints to end at a large freight elevator. Using a card key, he was able to select the top floor of the fifteen story building. "Mr Silvercloud has a personal apartment on the top floor, he asked that you wait for him there, but suggested we use the freight elevator."

Of course he would, Silvercloud knew of her claustrophobia. The freight elevator was about three times larger than a normal one. She took several deep breaths, telling herself she'd be out of it soon enough, she was not trapped. Not that her mind chose to listen to her in such matters and she felt the walls closing in during the not brief enough ascension.

When they exited the elevator they came into a small vestibule leading to a locked door, again Raymond used the key card to access the room. This opened into the kitchen and storage areas where the elevator would be used to bring up food and supplies. Covered in stainless steel, the kitchen could have come out of a restaurant it was so well stocked. Which was hilarious considering the man she knew, for all his talents, could hardly cook.

Through a swinging door, Ororo was met by a wide expanse of white. Minimalist was key in his design, white walls and brown furniture. An Impressionist era painting over a fireplace was the only real dash of color other than the Crimson and Cream of the University of Oklahoma's football team which decorated his desk set off in a side room. A stairway led to a second level where his bedroom was presumably located.

But the real marvel of the apartment was the glass ceiling that covered half the room, slanting at an angle to catch the sun. Ororo always preferred the wide open spaces, to be close to the elements. It occurred to her that other than a lack of plants, which could be easily corrected, this was the kind of place she could see herself in.

"He asked you make yourself at home," Raymond gestured around the apartment, then to a phone set on a side table near the front door, "if you need anything, dial the operator."

"Thank you, Raymond," she said politely and with a nod the man disappeared through the front door.

Taking a long breath, she was annoyed that he was keeping her waiting but had expected nothing less.

Storm's eyes caught on an image on the fireplace mantle and she was instantly drawn to it. Picking up the framed photo, a much younger Ororo stood with the Giza pyramids in the background. She was dressed in ethnic garb which belied her radical haircut, a mohawk of white. Her arm was slung around a dark haired Native American dressed in the combat gear of a US Marine.

Her thumb traced the man's face, "Forge…"

…

Rogue walked up to the rather plain but not exactly cheap house, the neighborhood being a fairly upper middle class area. She tried the door and it was locked, it usually was, even if someone was home, so she pulled out a separate set of keys and let herself in.

"Irene," she said as she closed the door behind her, "it's me, Rogue."

"I'm in the kitchen," came a soft, elder, voice.

Heading to the back where the kitchen was situated, Rogue saw Irene, a woman in her early fifties with graying hair and delicate bone structure, a pair of pitch black glasses perched on her nose. She was pulling out coffee grains and a filter to make herself a drink.

"Here," Rogue moved forward, "let me do that for you."

"I'm quite capable of making coffee," she said dryly.

"Yeah, I know," she replied cheekily, "but what's the point of having kids around if you don't make them do all the work for you?"

"I suppose," a wry smile formed on the woman's lips and she turned away, heading for the living room. Irene could get around her house without her cane, she knew every angle in the walls, every dip of the floor, by heart. She had lived there for as long as Rogue had known her, going back to when Rogue was adopted by Mystique.

Rogue busied herself with making the coffee, insuring that she put the containers back where she found them in exactly the same spot. Worn Braille adorned them, "I should get all these labels replaced for you."

"I don't bother with them anymore," Irene said from her seat on the lounger, "there is no one here to put them back in the wrong spot."

Rogue frowned, "Sorry about that."

"You were a child," the woman said dismissively, "you, St John, Pietro, Wanda, children and teenagers. You had to be taught that the world is much larger than yourselves."

"Yeah," she said quietly, waiting for the heated water to drain through into the pot.

…

Bobby was ripping into a Twinkie and the sugary smell instantly filled the cabin. He took an appreciative sniff before pulling the plastic completely off. About to stuff the whole crème filled cake into his mouth at once, he looked up to see everyone staring at him, even the pilots.

"What?" he looked between them, then sighed, pulling the box out of his backpack, "just because none of you ever think to pack snacks that aren't trail mix," he tossed the box to Kitty, "and I haven't forgotten about you all calling me fat, I'm just that nice of a guy."

"Thanks, Bobby," Kitty said gleefully as she grabbed one of the cakes. She offered the box to Logan who waved her off and she instead leaned over and gave it to JP who gave her a nod of thanks.

There was a small jerk of the plane and Jean spoke up, "Scott, take the controls."

Bobby glanced up nervously but realized Jean had her fingers to her temples as she concentrated, the Professor sending her a message. Sighing, Bobby sat back in his seat and waited. He wouldn't lie, flying made him a little nervous and it amazed him that Scott could even look at a plane after what happened to his family.

Jean lifted her head and started to fiddle with her touchscreen, "The Professor gave me some coordinates outside Juneau, thinks the new mutant is holed up in a small house or shack."

"Probably afraid," Scott said what they were all thinking, "doesn't know what's happening, how or why they have these new powers."

"Chuck see what kind of mutant we're dealing with?" Logan spoke up, the cabin taking a solemn turn.

"Energy based," Jean looked over her shoulder, "something to do with controlling sound waves. Jubilee found local news reports of a sonic boom taking out a lot of store fronts last night."

"Poor kid's probably hiding where they can't do any more damage," JP commented.

Bobby leaned back in his seat with a sigh, "Been there, done that."

…

Storm stood out on the balcony, staring up at the blue sky, fluffy clouds drifting across the sun. She had slipped her shoes off, her shawl forgotten inside as well. Closing her eyes she let the elements swirl around her, she always felt more alive, more like a whole person, when it was nothing but her and the weather.

"Thought I'd find you out here," a deep tenor with a slight country accent said behind her.

She remained still for a moment. "I admit, I never saw you here, in New York, running a large corporation," she tilted her head and looked over her shoulder slightly, "what happened to the man I knew?"

"If I remember correctly," he looked at her evenly, "you broke his heart."

Turning to face him, "I'm sure the feeling was mutual."

They stood there, casually looking each other over as they hadn't talked in at least a decade. Forge was dressed casually in a grey suit, light blue dress shirt, glove on one hand to cover his prosthetic. His long brown hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail, the only sign of his Native American heritage outside his tan skin and high cheek bones.

The man looked good, real good.

"Join me for lunch," he gestured back into the apartment.

"It's a bit early for lunch," she frowned.

He acted as though he had to think about that, "Then I guess we'll have to drag it out a bit then."

"I called you over a dozen times in the last month," she stalked towards him, "you wouldn't answer a single message and yet you want me to sit down and have a meal with you?"

"Why talk to you over the phone," he grinned and she remembered all those times that devious look on his face ended much differently than a casual lunch, "when I could have a little patience and see you in person."

"You could have asked me here any time," she pointed out.

"Would you have come?" he asked her in all seriousness.

She opened her mouth to answer but then stopped. Just seeing him brought back wonderful memories of their time together, of long Moroccan nights. But so too did she remember why things would have never worked out between them…

Storm hadn't realized how close to Forge she had gotten, or maybe he had stepped towards her, but their bodies nearly touched and there was a nearly irresistible pull between them. But resist she did, right now was not the time to rehash the past.

"I thought so," he turned and headed towards the kitchen, "I'll answer any question you ask, _after_ we eat."

It was only with little reluctance that Ororo followed him, wishing she didn't miss him so terribly so.

…

Placing Irene's mug in front of her on the coffee table, Rouge moved to sit across from her in another of the high backed chairs. The blind woman reached forward and gently took hold of the cup, bringing it up to her lips for a tentative taste.

"How you been?" Rogue asked before taking her own sip of coffee.

"I manage," the woman said simply, "as I have done most of my life."

"I know you have," she frowned, "but you and momma were together for a long time, the peanut gallery agrees," she tapped her temple, "you don't just move on when a relationship like that ends so abruptly."

"The peanut gallery agrees, does it?" Irene said wryly, tilting her head a bit, "Still trusting them for relationship insights? I've always said there is no substitute for personal experience."

Rogue shook her head and rolled her eyes, sometimes wishing Irene would just drop the subject already.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady," Irene said stiffly.

"Ah…" she was going to say she didn't roll her eyes but Rogue knew better than that, Irene may be blind but she was smart. "Tried the whole relationship thing," Rogue curled her legs into the chair, "didn't exactly work out."

"Then perhaps you were doing it wrong," the lady offered, "or not trying hard enough. Experience is earned, Rogue, not given."

"I tried real hard," Rogue spoke bitterly, "tried not to put him into a coma. Really Irene, what's the point…" she paused as a thought made her look up at the woman, "unless, you seen something, Irene? Something about my future?"

"I see many things," the woman sat her mug back down on the table, "not all of it by choice."

Rogue thought about this and sighed, shaking her head, "Not like you'd tell me if you did, at least not straight forward anyway. I'm still waiting for your '_when you see him, trust the Eskimo'_ prediction to come to pass."

"And trust the Eskimo you should," Irene said gravely, "but what I can say right now is that you are still the same insular little girl you always have been."

"I ain't insular," Rogue automatically defended.

"You've wrapped yourself up in a neat little shelter," the seer spoke simply, "played your part as daughter for Raven, as solider for Erik, and as friend to the others," her head tilted to the side. "Did you ever stop to ask yourself if this was what you wanted? Or do you hide in these boxes willingly so you don't have to face reality and properly deal with it?"

"What! That you'd even think…" Rogue was incensed at the woman's words and she nearly jumped from her chair, her gloved hand clenching the arm rests. Irene, for her part, sat there passively. There was no malice in her words or her posture. No air of anger, just a touch of sadness.

"Wait," Rogue thought back across all the years she had known Irene, "is this… is this what you and momma got into a fight over? Me?"

"Parents often have differing opinions on how to raise their children," Irene picked her mug up and had another sip, "I wouldn't concern yourself."

"But…" she started to feel sick to her stomach, "if you two broke up cause of me…"

"It did not take a prognostic to see that things were coming to an impasse between Raven and I," Irene said with a touch of sadness, "one argument or another, the content does not matter."

She frowned, not comforted at all by the woman's words, "Still…"

"Hush now, child," Irene said softly, "finish your drink before it gets cold."

Rogue wanted to say something, but instead she curled back into the chair, coffee cup in hand, her mind reeling.

…

A pack had fallen over and a cup rolled down the aisle of the plane. More thunder crashed outside as they jerked up and down, side to side.

"A little weather," his father said sarcastically.

"We're just a few minutes out, Christopher," his mother spoke from the co-pilot's chair, checking the navigation. "You'll want to veer five degrees to the North."

"Right," the plan shuttered as he tipped it slightly to angle towards where the runway was supposed to be.

Scott glanced over at his brother who was holding onto the arm rests of his chair, his knuckles gone white. "Hey," he nudged him with his shoulder, "it'll be alright."

"I know," Alex's tone belied his words, his eyes a little wide, "dad's flown in worse, right dad?"

"Much worse," he told them, his teeth a little gritted as he held the controls in a death grip, "remember, I lived _Black Hawk Down_. This, this is just a little wind and rain."

Lightning continued to streak around them, thunder echoing around the metal hull.

One bolt stuck too close, impacting on the wing, heading for one of the twin engines with a loud pop. The plane jerked again, this time more violently than before. Stuff came loose from the rear of the plane and flew forward, bags, tools, whatever didn't get caught in the seats.

Alarms started to screech and Scott saw a metal box strike his mother from behind, his father shouting, "Katherine!"

"Mom!" he also yelled, but then Scott was hit with something solid but soft, his backpack.

His head snapped forward then back as the plane jerked and when he opened his eyes… and all he saw was red.

The optic compression beam he was able to channel ripped through the hull of the plane, nicking the other engine before he managed to shut his eyes.

"Scott!" his brother shouted from beside him over the now howling wind.

"Sorry!" he clenched his eyes tight, feeling the pressure but willing it to subside. He opened his eyes to see the gaping hole he had made, the wind grabbing hold of the edges and tearing it wider, rain pouring in.

He had done that? It would be a miracle if the plane didn't break apart before they could get the runway.

"Ah!" Scott shut his eyes as he felt the pressure build again much too rapidly.

"Scott," his father was still gritting his teeth, trying to hold the plane together, "you got to calm down, son, remember. Deep breaths."

"Deep breaths," he practically choked, reaching for his glasses, they would help while he tried to get his ability under control. All he felt was his hair. "My glasses!"

"There they are," Alex said beside him and he heard the click of a seatbelt.

"Alex, get back in your seat," his father shouted.

His brother ignored him and moments later Scott felt his glasses in his hand and quickly put them on. Adjusting his vision he could see that the hole he had created was much larger, being ripped by the wind, and the lightning struck engine was now on fire.

"Thanks," he told his brother who was half sitting sideways in the seat next to him.

"No problem," Alex smiled and then the plane wrenched violently as another bolt of lightning danced across the fuselage.

Alex went flying backwards and landed against a piece of the plane's structure which jutted out from the wall. His father cursed as he tried to keep the plane from tipping any more to the left, more warning sirens sounding.

"Alex!" Scott unbuckled his seat, grabbing hold of the bolted down leg to try to reach his brother.

"Scott!" the younger boy shouted, trying to reach up and take his hand.

The plane lost altitude suddenly, tipping sideways, and all the loose bits that had been rattling around went flying towards Alex who struggled to maintain his handhold.

"ALEX!" he screamed as his brother slid down, the boy desperately reaching for any handhold before flying out into the dark through the hole in the hull Scott had created.

"ALEX!" he kept shouting the name as if somehow that would make his brother reappear.

"_Scott_," a soft voice nudged at him from under the howling wind and screeching alarms.

"Scott," a hand touched his shoulder.

"Sorry," he took a sudden increase in breath and looked over at the woman sitting next to him, "what were you saying?"

"We have landing clearance to refuel," Jean gestured towards the radio in her hand, of course, he had asked her to call it in. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he shrugged it off, checking the systems, getting ready for a descent, something he could do in his sleep, "just lost in thought," he covered. "We want to get to this kid before they cause any more damage. I'm sure Cooper and her lot would love to use them as just another example why mutants can't be considered as anything less than WMD's."

"Yeah," she said after a moment, not believing for one second that was what he was thinking about but accepting that he didn't want to talk about it.

"I don't want to be on the ground for any more than forty-five minutes," he told the passengers behind him then turned back watching the dials as the plane slowly dropped.

All the indicator lights were green and the sky was clear and blue… but all he saw was red.

…

Jean was stretching after the several hours on the plane, she had gotten up and moved around on occasion during the flight but it felt better to be flat footed on the ground.

"Hey," Bobby came up beside her, handing over a chocolate bar of some sort, "try this."

"Kinder Bueno?" she eyed the candy suspiciously as she tore it out of its wrapper.

"It's good," Bobby assured her, snacking down on one of his own, "I found them in the waiting area."

Jean took one bite of the hazelnut crème filled wafer covered in chocolate and her eyes went wide, "Oh my god."

"I know right?" he laughed at her, "I'm going to buy a bazillion of them when we come back through."

"Make it two bazillion," she eagerly took another bite, "my dentist is gonna kill me."

Bobby chuckled and finished off his Bueno. He then glanced around and saw Scott was still talking to the man in charge of the petrol truck. "Is he doing okay?"

"Hhmm?" she tried to play his question off, not feeling comfortable talking about the man behind his back, well, any more than she already had.

"Come on," he wasn't buying her feigned innocence, "I saw how he got all zoned out. I mean, I trust him, but, well, I can't say it doesn't worry me a bit."

Jean sighed, also glancing over to make sure Scott was still occupied, "He's come a long way since I first met him, which was a year after the accident. But honestly, I don't think he'll ever get over it."

"He doesn't talk about it either," Bobby frowned, "I've been told that's not good."

"I know," she let out a long breath, wondering if she should bring up Bobby's inability to talk about what happened between him and Sabretooth, but instead shrugged, "but it's not in Scott's nature. He feels like he has to be the strong one."

"Strong for who?" Bobby continued to frown, "there's no one left, except his grandfather, but the old man is ornery enough for the both of them."

Scott nodded to the guy he was speaking to and headed back in their direction. He stood tall, as he always did, a sureness to his steps and purpose to the set of his jaw.

Jean said thoughtfully, "Their memory is still alive to him, and that's enough."

* * *

**1X04 – Midsummer's Night Dream – Act III**

"If we gather this here," LeFlore had a cut up shirt draped over Meg who was in a tank top, "put a seam here, we can mimic the long sleeve look without her having to go through hoops to get dressed."

"It'll be perfect for winter," Jim nodded, then gestured to the green fabric LeFlore was holding, "but let's use the blue, don't want to be too matchy-matchy, otherwise her wings will blend right in."

"Of course," the seamstress whipped the fabric away and picked up the blue fleece.

"Actually," Meg said quietly, a bit overwhelmed, "I was hoping to maybe do just that. Hide my wings."

"Now why would you want to do such a silly thing?" Jim stared at her blankly.

"I…" part of Meg wanted to be able to fly with her wings, but the other was ashamed of them. If she didn't have them then she could try living a normal life, but… "you're right. I'd have to dye my hair, get my ears clipped, and cover my eyes too, it would never work."

"Oh, I can make anything work, sweetheart," Jim pointed out, "but why would you want to hide your natural beauty?"

"Natural freakiness you mean," she mumbled under her breath, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

"Oh, now hush," the stylist admonished her, turning her to face the mirror proper, "you're a beautiful young woman with the ultimate fashion accessories. You should embrace it, not hide it."

"But I have to hide," she shook her head, "every time I go out I have to cover my wings."

Jim crossed his arms, "Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight."

…

"And we're back at cruising altitude," Scott said from the front, Kitty taking that as the signal to be able to pull out her laptop.

"Who wants lunch?" Bobby asked as he stood and grabbed a cooler from behind his seat, pulling it around to sit in front of him. "I was in a hurry to pack and the chef was prepping breakfast so told her to throw together what she could."

"That chef is a miracle worker when it comes to food," JP commented, holding the cooler lid for Bobby.

Kitty giggled, "We swear she has a secondary mutation, cuisine-kinesis."

"Let's see," Bobby was rummaging, "this one says Kosher so I'm guessing that's yours," Bobby handed over the saran wrapped sandwich and a bottle of juice to the younger girl.

"Thankies," Kitty graciously took the items and sat them next to her computer on the limited space of the fold down table.

"Extra beef, Logan, extra mayo, JP," Bobby handed them out before standing to head to the cockpit, "mustard only" he passed a sub and drink to Scott, "vinaigrette with a Diet Coke," was Jean's.

"Thank you, Bobby," Jean smiled and Scott nodded his appreciation as well.

"You know," Bobby leaned against the small divider behind the pilot's chair, "no offense to your plane, and I'm going to regret this come budget time, but I'm starting to think Jean's right, we could use a faster plane, a jet engine one, like, oh, Starscream."

"Starscream is a F-15 fighter jet," Scott shook his head at the man, "it seats two."

"Then what about Jetfire?" Bobby tried again.

Kitty glanced up, "Jetfire is a SR-71 Blackbird, even I know that."

Logan snickered, "I doubt the government is just going to let civilians fly around in fighter jets and stealth bombers."

"Alright, point taken," Bobby conceded, "but there has to be a civilian aircraft that can do what we want that's a reasonable price."

"Like I said," Scott assured him, "I'll look into it."

"Cool," he nodded and started back to his seat, "but whatever, don't—"

"Forget the receipt," Scott waved him off, "yes, I remember. Kind of hard to forget the pound of Kool-aid powder you put in my shower head the last time."

"Still can't believe it took you all day before you realized you were a shade of green," Kitty giggled and the rest of the cabin laughed at the man's expense.

Scott shook his head but even he began to chuckle.

…

"There you go," Rogue finished putting boxes in the attic for Irene and made her way back down the ladder which was attached to the drop door. As she pushed it into place she asked, "Anything else you need done?"

"Nothing I can't handle on my own," Irene assured her.

Rogue frowned, following the woman down the stairs. "I'm not around as often as I'd like, gotta feel useful, you know."

"Then you can keep St. John from burning down the bar tonight," Irene waved her off and headed towards the living room.

"Why is he gonna set the bar on fire," then after she had a second to think about what she just said, "this time?"

"Why else," Irene said wryly, "he'll get bored."

"Gotcha," she checked her watch, it just after twelve, plenty of time yet, "anything I can do for you until then?"

"No," she eased back into her seat, "you've done enough," it was a statement, not a jibe, "you'll always do too much, try too hard, one day it will get you killed."

Rogue blinked, the words coming from anyone else could be brushed off as hyperbole but when it came from a prognostic… "What have you seen?"

"You always ask that," Irene tsk'd at her, "always impatient to know the outcome, to know how it's all going to end."

She let out a choked laugh, "You don't just causally mention how someone might die and not expect them to be at least a little bit curious."

"Perhaps," the lady shrugged.

"And you're just gonna leave it at that, aren't you," Rogue shook her head, picking up the empty coffee mugs from earlier and taking them towards the kitchen so she could clean them.

"A person who is anxious to get to the future," Irene spoke gravely, "is one who is running from the past. When a person runs that fast, they run right past the present."

…

Storm sat on a stool at the kitchen island, picking at the remains of a Greek feta cheese salad, a glass of a red wine nearly finished. The two of them remained quiet though most of their lunch, but when they did speak there was enough nostalgia to fill a lifetime.

It was nice… she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed being in his company…

And later, once she left, she would remember why she made herself forget.

Forge picked up the wine bottle and topped off their glasses, "Do you remember Nairobi?"

"Of course I do," she frowned at him, "we were both too late."

"Yes," he echoed her frowned as he brought his wine glass to his lips, "it should have been foretelling for us to meet through such tragedy, that we would share a similar fate."

"Neither of us were ready for that kind of commitment, you know that," she shook her head, "I moved from place to place, basically living off the streets, I… I was losing control of my powers… and you…"

"Were a cripple," Jonathan's voice was hard and cold.

"It wasn't about that," she defended herself sternly, "it was _never_ about that."

"But you still left," he said sadly, staring into his wine glass as he swirled the liquid around.

"You were a mess, Jonathan," she said quietly, "I was a mess. It never would have worked."

"I know," he looked over the rim at her, "doesn't make it hurt any less."

"Is that why you wanted me here," she frowned at him, "to reopen old wounds?"

"No," he said simply, putting the wine glass delicately onto the table, "to make sure they were closed."

…

Jim and LeFlore were discussing design options while Megan picked at a salad Angel had brought in. "Miss Monroe said she wouldn't be back until later and to eat without her?"

"That's what she said," he nodded, taking a bite of his deli sandwich.

"You know when she'll be back?" the girl continued to push her food around.

"Not sure, considering the _old friend_ she's visiting," he chuckled to himself, "it could be awhile. But this is good, gives us a chance to talk."

Meg glanced up at the man, "I thought Jean might have put you up to this."

"You're a smart girl, Meg," he didn't deny Jean's involvement, "you know everyone cares about you."

"Right," she said wryly as she speared a cherry tomato, "they all look at me like I'm one after school special just waiting to happen," frustrated, she dropped her fork into the bowl, "and they can't come out and say anything either, no, they send you to pacify me with clothes."

"Okay, the clothes were my idea," he told her pointedly, "because I've been where you are. You think it's easy hiding these suckers," he gestured to where his wings drooped loosely.

Frowning, she conceded his point, but still, "At least the rest of you looks normal."

"True," he nodded, "but I have a lot more people paying attention to me, and in any case," he waved his hands as if to clear the subject, "it doesn't matter how alike or dissimilar we are, the point is, nobody likes to feel different, singled out, because of things beyond their control, but as mutants, that's just a part of who we are, we can't let it get to us."

"Are your next words going to be 'easier said than done'?" she replied dryly.

"Well, they were," he said cheekily.

Meg gave a bit of a chortle then took a breath, "Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the clothes, shopping can be tedious, but I look around every day at people doing great things, mutant or no, and I wonder where my place is in all that. As a mutant I do nothing, 'cept look like a pixie, and I can't blend in as a human, I'm not smart like Jean or Doctor McCoy, I mean, even Bobby of all people can do, like, calculus in his head or something."

"Well then," Warren went back to his sandwich, "good thing you're only sixteen."

She tilted her head slightly, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"You still have a couple years to decide what you want to do with your life," he shrugged, then gave her a little conspiratorial grin, "and here's a hint, you're allowed to change your mind as many times, and as often, as you want."

"Now that…" Meg pulled a face, "was totally worthy of an after school special."

"Hey," he smiled back unabashedly, "you work with what you have."

…

Being a veteran of war, Christopher Summers knew how to coax a plane into breaking the laws of physics to do what needed to be done. As he tried to right the plane he barely had time to look over his shoulder before one of his sons disappeared into the night.

"ALEX!" he screamed but his words were as useful as Scott's.

The plane tried to jerk again and he held the controls fast, the whole thing about to fall apart. Nothing was responding, not even the landing gear, and at the rate the engine was burning he'd be lucky if the whole plane didn't blow up before he got over land.

Taking one hand off the wheel he quickly reached over to confirm what he had already feared. The man had seen enough to know a mortal wound when he saw one. Touching his wife's neck to look for a pulse, it was already clammy and cold.

Christopher then looked down at his leg where a piece of metal had literally pinned him to the seat. If he took it out he'd bleed to death before he got his parachute on.

The situation was clear to him, with the lights of Kaneohe in the not too far distance, he righted the plane as best he could and prayed that he was giving his son a chance and wasn't making a mistake.

…

Scott stared at the opening his brother had slipped through, tears streaming down his face. This was his fault, he created the hole in the first place, he couldn't reach him in time…

"Scott," he father called to him and he could barely acknowledge the words. "SCOTT!"

"Dad?" his head shot forward and tried to focus on his father who was attempting to keep the plane level.

"You see a parachute?" he asked and numbly Scott looked around. "A parachute, Scott, do you see one?"

"Yeah," he called out, climbing up onto the seat, remembering what happened to Alex, keeping a firm grip as he made his way to the other side of the cabin where the chutes were hooked to the wall.

"Good," his dad said, "you remember how to use it, right?"

Scott nodded his head then realized he father wanted verbal answers, "I remember."

"We're coming up on Kaneohe," he messed with some of the controls, "the wind should push you towards shore, you'll make landfall, stick your landing and you'll be okay."

"Dad?" it clicked in his mind, Scott was to jump alone, "What about you, Mom?"

There was a pause, Scott noticing his mother wasn't moving except vibrating in response to the plane's actions, then his father glanced slightly over his shoulder, "Neither of us are in a condition to jump, son, I'm going to land this plane, having you jump is just a precaution."

Tears swelled in his eyes, nearly fogging up his rose quartz glasses, "No, I wanna stay with you."

"Damn it, Scott," his father rarely got crossed, "I need you to do this for me, okay. Put on the chute and jump."

Several deep breaths later Scott reluctantly did as his father told, slipping the parachute onto his back, making sure to get all the clasps done up. He turned towards the gap in the hull, the wind whipping past and the pelting rain making small puddles on the deck.

"Dad," he lost his nerve, still seeing his brother's face as he slipped from the plane.

"It's okay, Scott," his father assured him, "just as we practiced."

Swallowing hard, Scott moved forward, falling slightly and grabbing onto a piece of the structure, avoiding the jagged edges of the ripped metal.

"Scott," his father called out and for a moment he hoped he had changed his mind, instead he said, "I love you, your mother and I love you, don't ever forget that, son."

He stared at his father with tears in his eyes, knowing in his gut that this was very likely the last time he would ever see his parents again but not wanting to believe it. "I love you too, dad."

The older man nodded to him and turned his attention back to the controls, attempting to keep the wounded plane on course. Staring forward into the darkness, Scott breathed deeply and moved to the threshold of the gap, the rain striking his face. One last check that he had the chute on tight and his glasses were snug on his face, Scott closed his eyes, took a breath, and jumped.

Scott righted himself, pulling the rip cord almost immediately and feeling himself being lurched from a free fall into something a little more controlled even though the wind and rain pounded against him. From his vantage point he could see the damaged plane flying forward, the lights of the island in front of him. He was pushed forward, the wind rocking him back and forth as the chute threaten to collapse in on itself.

It didn't take long for the plane to disappear from sight and the sea turn into forest below his feet. The island was full of trees and wooded areas, he attempted to aim for one of the sources of light but found himself being pushed farther to the left towards the mountain. He knew he wouldn't have to worry about hitting it directly, he was losing altitude too quickly for that to happen.

Rain and wind assaulted him, pushing him down towards a group of trees.

"No, no," he tried to maneuver himself away from the trees but the wind wouldn't let him, instead the chute collapsed and he went into free fall almost thirty feet above the ground.

First he felt the smaller tree limbs that made up the tops of the trees, they smacked against him, leaving small bruises in their wake. This slowed him down marginally as he began to hit the larger branches. Throwing his hands out he attempted to either grab hold or at least keep himself from knocking into them too roughly.

The chute caught on a branch and he jerked to the side, swinging into the trunk of one of the trees. Unable to control his descent any longer, his head struck against a branch. As his mind blacked out, all he could do was fall and wonder what was worse:

Dying or Surviving.

* * *

**1X04 – Midsummer's Night Dream – Act IV**

"The storm which rocked through the Islands last night was much stronger than predicted," a man sipped at his coffee as he watched the morning news, "meteorologists believe it was a result of an uncharacteristic global shift in weather patterns which started a few days go over the middle-east, an area which has been having scattered showers, despite all environmental factors, leading to what should be drought-like conditions. While the locals have been benefitting from the rainfall, scientists are at a loss to explain the unseasonal rain storms though many are pointing to Global Warming as a likely culprit in the shifting and erratic weather."

His dog came over and nudged his leg, whining slightly.

"Last night's storm was responsible for flooding that claimed the life of one person on Molokai," the reporter continued, "as well as thousands of dollars in damages to homes and businesses. A long-range personal aircraft also crashed last night on Oahu outside Kaneohe, so far officials are blaming a lightning strike which was reported to ground control during the flight, they will know more once the wreckage is cleared and the data recorder examined. Flight plans show the craft to have come from Alaska with four people on board, all of which are believed to have perished in the crash."

The dog continued to whine, shaking its tail expectantly. With a resigned sigh the man stood and the dog ran to the door, hopping slightly on his rear legs. Grabbing his coat and walking stick, he opened the door and let his dog out for a walk.

He let the dog run ahead as he went through his morning ritual, walking the length of his acreage. Before long, his dog began to bark loudly and steadily. Following the noise, he headed through the trees, first seeing the nylon fabric of a ripped parachute swaying in the wind. Pushing it aside, he got a better look at what his dog was alerting him to.

Lying on the ground with a deep gash on the side of his head was a boy, barely a teenager. Stepping forward to see if the kid was still breathing, he heard a loud pop and crunch. Glancing down, he moved his foot off the remains of ruby colored glasses.

…

Rogue tipped her sunglasses up onto her forehead as she entered the warehouse, motorcycle helmet dangling in her hand. Dom was sitting in the living room watching TV and John was at the kitchen island, scribbling in one of his notebooks.

"You're back early," Dom commented and Pyro glanced up as if he hadn't even noticed her arrival.

"I forgot how annoying prognostics can be," she said with a sigh, sitting the helmet on the island before heading over to the fridge, "I love Irene to death but she can be so frustrating at times."

"King Croesus of Lydia went to the Pythia and asked if he should go up against the Persians," Pyro paused when he saw the confused look on Rogue's face, "ah, a King back in like 550 BC went to the Oracle of Delphi," he clarified, "anyway, the prophetess said that if Croesus attacked the Persians he would destroy a great empire," he spoke gravely, then his mood suddenly changed and he laughed, "turned out it was his empire that got trashed. Silly man, there are some things you just don't do, like attack the Persians if your name isn't Alexander…" he thought about it for a split second, "or invade Russia in winter if your name is Napoleon… or ever, really."

"Right," Rogue said blankly, "thanks for the history lesson 'professor'."

"Give the old woman a break," Dom said as Rogue grabbed a bottle of water, "it can't be easy to know the future."

"She doesn't 'see the future'," she corrected him, "she picks up on the telepathic field of the universal consciousness and her brain acts like a computer, able to see in real time all the factors and probabilities of any given instance."

"So she knows what someone will do," he shrugged, "and in turn how that will affect another and so on. Basically, she sees the future."

"Yeah, well, anyway," Rogue ran her hand through her hair, "what's good knowing the future if you don't do anything about it," she leaned back against the now closed fridge door, "she makes all these hints and cryptic statements. Like your King Crawdad, that wasn't a prophecy, that was the Oracle being a smart ass."

"Croesus," Pyro corrected, "and dunno, I think knowing the future would be terribly boring."

Rogue frowned, knowing what the man thought of boring. "I'm not talking about every little detail, but the big things, the important things."

"Like if you'll ever gain control of your mutation?" the Aussie asked and Rogue looked at him sharply. "Let's face it Rogue, you can't believe you'll get control because someone tells you you will, you have to believe it because you actually believe you will."

She shook her head at him, he didn't know what he was talking about, "Says the man who had control from the beginning."

"Yeah," he grinned, "but I'm Australian, we're special."

"Special in the head," rolling her eyes, she headed towards the stairs, "get me when you guys are ready to go out."

"Will do," John called after her then went back to filling the notebook with his chicken-scratch.

As she went to her room, all she could think about was the fact that most all mutants of her age had control over their mutants, perhaps not perfected it, but control. Only those who had late blooming secondary mutations suffered as she did. If she didn't have control of her primary mutation after having it for so long… would she ever?

…

"Yes," LeFlore nodded to Jim as she pulled away the pink fabric. "I think you're right, the shade is just off enough to compliment her hair without blending."

"It would make a lovely summer dress," the man agreed, then noticed his watch. "I am sorry but I have another appointment to get to."

"I think we've covered everything," LeFlore nodded thoughtfully, "now I just need to sew the darn things together."

"You'd do fabulous," Jim told the woman before turning to Meg, "and you'll look fabulous, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Yeah, thank you," she smiled at him but it was hard for her not to feel like she was kidding herself. She looked like some mythical creature and while that was on some level pretty darn cool, part of her would do anything just to look and feel normal, like everyone else.

Tim headed out, giving a few departing words to Warren on his way. LeFlore fiddled with some of the fabric, "I should have this finished in four weeks, five on the outside."

"Tidy," Meg said as she picked up some of the sketches, this one of a dress, her wings drawn out lightly in pencil with notes made to the side. She wasn't sure how it was going to work but she had seen what LeFlore had done with Warren's clothes.

"You ready to go?" Warren asked and she sat the sketch down.

"I guess so," she looked to LeFlore.

"I have everything I need," the woman told her.

"Thank you," Meg gave her a smile, having to admit that she was indeed looking forward to seeing the results of the sketches that littered the work table.

"Always a pleasure," LeFlore smiled and headed off towards another work bench.

"You know," Warren said quietly, "I had the option, still have the option, to have my wings removed."

Meg looked up at him sharply.

"They're just bones," he shrugged, "remove them at the joint, a little skin graft, probably wouldn't look completely normal but a lot easier to explain than these," he gestured to the wings.

"Why didn't you?" she asked before she really even thought.

"Would make things a lot easier," he gave a laugh, "the papers write me as some playboy but very few ladies have gotten the pleasure of seeing…" Warren blinked and realized who he was talking to, "anyway, every time I consider having them clipped, I think about everything they've taught me."

"Taught you?" Meg frowned.

"Yeah, you see," he took a second to gather his words, "doesn't matter how rich your parents are, all kids have that desire to both fit in and stand out. It's the part of being a kid that makes it such a frustrating and confusing time. I could have easily turned into some male Paris Hilton or some such, but I didn't, because having something so obviously different taught me the value of both, fitting in and standing out."

She considered his words and to her they felt hollow, again, at least he looked mostly normal and could afford the likes of Jim Colt and Madam LeFlore, "So, I'm suppose to learn from all this?"

He ignored her snark, "Yes, but what, I don't know. It's just like deciding what you want to do when you grow up, what kind of person you want to be…" he trailed off.

"Not helpful," she frowned.

"Sorry, this all sounded easier back when I agreed to it," he admitted, grabbing his coat from where it was laying across a chair, "could you give me a hand? I can do it myself but it's just easier if I get help."

"Sure," she shrugged and as he pulled the coat onto one arm she straightened it out and draped it over the tips of his wings so he could easily slid in the other.

"Thanks, Meg," Warren turned and straightened the fabric out while she grabbed her own coat. "If only it was that easy for me," he said as she easily slid her coat around her wings which were completely dropped.

"Well," a little grin came to her face, "you work with what you have, right?"

He laughed, "And don't you ever forget it."

…

As Scott came back to consciousness, there was the familiar texture of cotton over his closed eyes as pressure began to build behind his lids. Taking deep breaths, his body ached and his arm was heavy in a cast. There was beeping and noises, the only place he could be was a hospital.

The last thing he remembered was falling…

"We've taped your eyes shut," a female voice said, "try not to open them, I'll get the doctor."

He heard footsteps fade away, weakly he lifted his free hand to his head. There were bandages across his forehead, a blindfold holding the cotton across his tapped eyes…

"Dad, Mom," he croaked out, "Alex!"

"Scott," a man was near him now, "calm down, you've been through a trauma."

"Doctor Windsor?" he asked of the familiar voice.

"I came as soon as I heard you were found," the man said evenly as he moved around, checking Scott's vitals, "you fractured your radius, gained some cuts and bruises, all which will heal nicely, but I'm more worried about the blow you took to your head. There was some swelling, you possibly seized, your scans worry me."

The doctor's words barely registered, there was only one thing on Scott's mind, "My parents, they were on the plane, where are they?"

Nothing but silence.

"Where are they?!"

"_We're here,"_ a woman's voice said next to him. "Shall I radio in?"

"Yeah," Scott glanced over at Jean as he kept his eyes on the controls of the plane, "we need our approach vector and runway."

She nodded and started to fiddle with the radio to call it in as Scott stared out at the white capped mountains in the distance. They looked like a blanket of blood red covering the land.

"You know," JP called from the back, "I can't help thinking it's possible the Brotherhood could be onto this lead, the news reports are questionable enough, what with an unexplained sonic boom and all that."

"Bucket Head has a few recruiters," Logan said with a light growl, "if any are around, I'll smell 'em out."

"The Professor didn't sense any other mutants," Jean had her hand over the mic of her headset. "We'll send him a message and ask him or Betsy to do another search. In case they showed up recently," she said the last few words quickly then went back to speaking to the person on the other end of the radio.

"JP," Scott came to a decision, "if the mutant is hiding outside the city then the team won't need us to help find him, so if there are known Brotherhood on the ground, you and I will handle it, unless it's Creed, otherwise we'll leave him to Logan," there was a snort from said man's direction.

"Sounds good," JP nodded.

"Let's just hope we don't have to worry about the Brotherhood for once," he stared out into the red skies, "we recruit this new mutant and go home."

…

"You can pick me up outside Forge Industries," Ororo said into her phone, shooting half a glance over at the man leaning up against the fireplace. "I'll see you in a bit.

"I suppose you want to talk about important things now," Forge said sadly as lifted himself from his perch. "Your messages mentioned some questionable projects I might be involved in."

"Yes," she turned towards as she tapped her phone against her other hand, wondering how best to approach the subject. "What do you know about Sentinel?"

"The government's super secret A.I. program to track mutants?" he answered casually. "It's black ops of the deepest, darkest color. The Army has it so tightly wrapped they won't even let DARPA in on it, and this is what DARPA does."

"We sort of… broke it," she gave a wry grin.

"So I heard," he grinned back at her, then shrugged, "but that's all I know about it. Words and whispers. You see, there's a… conflict of interest, me being a mutant and all. I'm not allowed anywhere near it."

Storm frowned, "You almost sound as if that is a bad thing, and not because you would have access to shut it down."

"From what I've been told," he shrugged unabashedly, "Sentinel is as much a work of art as it is an A.I."

"Kitty and Doug said much the same," she continued to frown as she considered how unconcerned he was.

"I've heard good things about them, Katherine Pryde, Douglas Ramsey," Forge's eyes lit up, "and they'll be graduating soon too, yes? If they'd be interested in a job, have 'em give me a call, great pay and benefits, mutant friendly, plus the government gives us fun toys to play with."

With a frustrated sigh, she rubbed at her temple. "Forge… Jonathan… how can you be so callus towards the situation?"

"And what would the situation be?" he frowned at her. "Cause all I see is three sides fighting it out like a frat party bender."

"A bender?" the word surprised her.

"Yes," he nodded, walking towards the patio balcony, "the Brotherhood has thrown all the furniture in the pool. The Government is spiking the drinks. And Xavier is lamely threatening to call campus security only to discover the guards are doing keg-stands in the kitchen."

"That's…" she continued to frown, "a colorful analogy."

"But no less true," he countered.

"Then where are you at this party?" her words were amused.

"Well, having been shunned by the most beautiful woman in school," he looked her up and down sadly, "I found the game room and making use of it while everyone else acts the fool."

"Is that what you think we are… what I am?" she frowned again, "Fools."

"I've heard about your X-Men," he splayed his hands, "I'm not sure what you hope to gain."

"Peace, understanding," Ororo responded immediately, "co-existence."

"A foolish dream," he spoke slowly, quietly. "I'm sorry, 'Ro, but that's just how it is."

She shook her head sternly, "You were never this cynical."

"I think maybe I was," Forge slumped his shoulders, "I just never noticed until now."

"What changed?" she asked quietly, "Why do you continue to work for the government, and DARPA. They build weapons to be used against us, your own kind. Why?"

"Why?" he let out a sad laugh. "You know why I was raised in Oklahoma instead of Wyoming? Because my people were forced there during removal so that settlers could have their land, then settlers ended up taking that land too," his laugh turned bitter, "but I was a dutiful son, a proud son, joined the military. Lost my leg, my hand, and _my best friend_ during a rescue mission I'm not allowed to talk about," he swept his hands wide, nearly knocking over the items on the mantle, "I come back to bury him and his funeral is picketed by people who wouldn't understand honor and respect if it bit them in the ass. Calling him a murderer and immoral and…" he couldn't continue, simply shook his head and trembled.

Stillness settled between them, Storm wanting to reach out to him but knowing to do so would only put them back where they were before, two lost souls entirely too dependent on the other.

"I've built something here," he finally spoke, "started with high tech limb replacements," he looked at his own glove covered hand, "and now I have contracts for the military, the Martian rovers have my tech on them, and you know why?"

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because I learned that taking sides… is a waste of time," he spoke firmly, his jaw set. "In the end, you're gonna get screwed over, one way or another, so might as well look out for yourself."

"You don't really believe that…" she tried.

"I don't want to," he admitted, "I really don't."

She stood tall, "They will come for you, they will only find you so useful before you become a liability." Internally she winced realizing just how much she sounded like Magneto in that moment.

"Then let them come," there was little arrogance in his words. "I've chosen a side, mine."

"Well then," she maintained her composure, though storm clouds started to gather outside, "I'll leave you to your work, we have nothing more to discuss. Thank you for lunch."

With her head held high, Storm grabbed her shawl and shoes before turning to leave, this time heading to the balcony. She needed to be one with nature, to feel the wind on her face. Gathering the elements around her, she stepped up onto the balustrade.

"'Ro," Forge called to her from the door, "you want to look into a Colonel Trask, he's the spearhead of the Sentinel project. Terribly anti-mutant, but a brilliant programmer and engineer. He was involved in designing weapons systems for everything from submarines to fighter jets before he gained enough pull to start his own project," he paused before saying softly, "be careful around him, and this whole mess, it'd be too easy to get yourself hurt."

"Thank you, Forge," she didn't bother to turn and look at him, "and I've missed you too," with that she stepped off, wrapping herself in wind to glide her to the alleyway below.

…

Dr Windsor moved to the side, his white lab coat making a shuffling sound as Scott had his eyes closed, lying on the table.

"I'm turning off the light," the small amount of glow behind his eyelids disappeared and he knew the area he was in had gone pitch black. "Now, open your eyes."

Timidly, Scott did as he was instructed, unable to make out much of anything in the absolute dark.

"I'm going to run the machine now," his doctor said and shortly there was the hum of equipment as he began to slowly move backwards. The CAT scan had its lights covered over with electrical tape and the glow from the sensors was not enough to set off his optic beam.

A few minutes later, Scott was brought out of the machine and the hum died, the familiar form of his glasses placed in his hands. Sitting up, he put them on.

"Ready for me to turn on the lights," the doctor asked and when Scott acknowledged yes, the man flipped the switch. "Why don't you wait with me in the office while I go over the new scans?"

"Yes, sir," he said numbly, not really caring at all about what was happening with his eyes. Sliding off the table he followed the doctor out and into the office, practically falling into one of the office chairs as Dr Windsor sat across from him at his desk, checking out the scans on his computer.

"It's as I feared," the man frowned, "when you hit your head you caused swelling which partially cut off blood flow to your occipital lobe, it controls how the mind processes visual input," he turned the screen so Scott could see the images from the scan, "this small area here is now dead, I believe that is why you can no longer turn off your ability to take and compress the red spectrum of visual light. You have physically lost the brain cells responsible for either control or to see in normal light. We'd have to do more tests to know for sure which."

"Can…" this caught his attention, "can I be fixed?"

"Once brain cells die, they stay dead," the man frowned, then looked at him thoughtfully, "but it is possible that other parts of the brain could pick up the slack, we could also try experimental surgery."

"Surgery?" for some reason he really didn't like the way the man said that word.

"Excuse me," there was a knock on the door and an Air Force Captain invited himself into the room.

"Captain," the doctor acknowledged him and Scott turned in his seat to see the man, he recognized him as one of his father's fellow flight trainers.

"Dr Windsor," the Captain nodded then turned to Scott, "I need to speak to Scott for a moment," he paused, taking a breath. "The medical examiner has released your parent's remains. Per your father's wishes, arrangements are being made to fly them back to Alaska for burial," Scott couldn't look at him anymore, staring down at the ground, wishing this was just some bad dream. "I know you've been staying in the hospital the past few days but your grandfather wants you to come stay with him immediately. I can understand if you don't want to fly, one of our carriers will be leaving for San Diego in a couple of days, from there I'm sure we can arrange for transfer up the coast."

"Um, Captain," the doctor stood up, "a word please."

The two men walked out into the hall and shut the door, Scott's mind awash of recent memories.

"I believe Scott should stay in my care," he heard the doctor say through the door.

"It's not your call," the Captain said, "his grandfather is the only family he has left."

"The old man is in no condition to take care of a teenager," Windsor countered and Scott guessed his father must have talked to the doctor about his grandfather's health.

"He's still his grandfather," the other man pointed out, "and if Scott stays around here it's only a matter of time before the military gets their hands on him and we both know that's the last thing Chris wanted."

"Scott is special," the doctor wasn't having any of it, "not only does he have a mutation but he's suffered brain damage."

"Has the damage made him physically or mentally disabled?" the Captain asked knowing full well the answer. Scott still had his arm in a cast but other than not being able to shut down his optic blast he was in great health for someone who crash landed his parachute. The doctor didn't answer because he knew the question was rhetorical. "Right now isn't the time for him to be poked and prodded when that's not going to do any good for him anyway, he needs to be with his family," there was a slight pause, "what's left of it. I gave his grandfather the name of a special school he might be interested in sending Scott after he's had time to recover, it caters to those who are… different."

"School, what school?"

"The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, New York," it was the first Scott had heard of it, "apparently the guys who run it are _different_ themselves."

"Xavier," he said the word as if he had heard it somewhere before and was trying to place it.

"Chris was looking into it before…" he stopped himself, "anyway, it checks out. They also have a doctor there, Hank McCoy, he should be more than able to take care of Scott."

"McCoy," he repeated the name, "I know of him. What else do you know of this school?"

"It's a school for mutants, run by mutants," the Captain offered unhelpfully, "it's new, has maybe a handful of students. Chris already signed off on it, he talked to Xavier himself. I believe he was going to talk to Scott about it when they got back."

There was a little bit of a pause before the doctor said, "Perhaps this is for the best, for Scott to be among others like himself."

"The boy needs his family," the Captain agreed, "and not made to feel like he's a lab experiment."

"Of course," Windsor seemed a little distracted as if lost in thought.

Moments later, the door opened up and the two walked inside. The Captain turned to him, "Your family's belongings are being boxed up to ship back with them. We'll go by to get what you want to take with you on the ship."

"No," Scott shook his head, trying not to cry, knowing he had to be strong, "I want to go with them, I already left them once, I don't want them to be alone."

* * *

**1X04 – Midsummer Night's Dream - Tag**

She stood in her greenhouse, clipping away at plants that probably didn't need a trim but it was something to do.

"Ororo," Charles said as he came down the aisle. "How did it go today?"

"Forge has nothing to do with Sentinel," she told him flatly, "but he did give us a name, Colonel Trask. I've asked Doug to look into it as Kitty is in Alaska."

"One lead is better than none," the man nodded, then after a pause said, "but I notice you still call him Forge."

"Force of habit, nothing more," she assured him and clipped a dying leaf from one of the plants.

"You cannot hide the truth, Ororo," Charles spoke sadly, "outwardly you appear calm, like the eye of a storm, but internally, well, it doesn't take a telepath to see that you are struggling, wracked with tumultuous emotions."

"Like all storms, it will pass," she kept her eyes on her plants. "It is the nature of things."

"Ororo," he said with a sigh, "when I told you your emotions directly affected your ability to control the natural elements of weather, I did not intend for you to simply shut them out."

Pulling down one of the stems she stared into a beautiful purple orchid, "When I am happy, the sun shines and the breeze is cool, when I am sad, storm clouds gather and the winds howl," she glanced over at the man, "but nature is delicate in her balance, she does not care if I am happy, or sad. I could destroy cities in a biblical flood and not even realize I am doing it," she went back to her flower, "what is that old saying? A butterfly flaps her wings in Mexico and causes a tornado in Oklahoma… I am that butterfly."

The Professor was quiet for a moment, "You have a better understanding of your mutation, Ororo, more so than you did then."

"Yes I do, Charles," she let the flower go and moved onto the next, "but that does not change the fact that when I get emotional I destroy lives, and Forge… Jonathan… makes me very emotional."

"Do you really believe you can continue your life like this?" he asked her sadly.

"We shall see, Charles," she clipped off another dying leaf, "we shall see."

…

Scott sat in the waiting area of the hanger bay, his head cast downwards, the screaming voice of his brother still in his ears. He couldn't look up, couldn't look people in the eye, not after what had happened…

"Today, the Air Force at Hickam Base will be saying goodbye to one of their own," the news reporter on the TV caught his attention, "Air Force Major Christopher Summers and his wife, Katherine, are being flown with honors to his home of Anchorage, Alaska, where he will be laid to rest. Summers was piloting the small air craft which suffered catastrophic engine failure due to lightening strikes during the massive storm which struck the islands two weeks ago. Summers managed to pilot the plane over a non-populated area before, as the Air Force and NTSB report, one of the engines exploded and sent it down," that was the story given to the media, it was close enough to the truth, the engine had exploded due to the lightening strike but had Scott not destroyed the other one… then perhaps the plane could have hobbled to a landing..

"Christopher and Katherine were on board when the plane went down," the reporter continued, "but as a precaution they had their two sons, Scott and Alex, parachute from the plane," another lie for the media to cover his guilt, "Twelve year old Alex Summers is believed to have landed off the coast. The Coast Guard are still searching for any sign of the boy but he is now considered missing, presumed dead. His older brother Scott Summers made it to landfall safely and is said to be recovering from injuries, a flood of well-wishes have been sent to the young man and our hearts go out to him."

"Scott," the Captain called his name from the doorway. "It's time."

"Right," he nodded and picked up his backpack, slinging it on his good shoulder before following the man out into the hanger.

From there he could easily see the cargo plane which would fly his parents back to Alaska. Over a dozen officers stood in dress blues, flanking the two coffins with an American Flag draped over each of them.

"Attend hut," someone called out as they came to a stop in front of the coffins. The officer's boots snapped together as they raised their hands in salute. A mournful cadence began to play as the coffins were slowly loaded into the cargo plane.

As he watched them go, Scott fought back tears that threatened to engulf him, holding his head up high, being strong for his father. He wouldn't let him down again, not ever again.

The roar of engines sounded overhead and he looked up to see fighter planes fly by in the missing man formation. As he stared up into the blue sky, all he saw was red.

"_Weather's coming in_," Scott said as he saw the familiar storm clouds start to settle across the Alaskan skyline as they got off their snowmobiles.

"Too bad we don't have Storm with us," Kitty spoke beside him as they headed towards the small cabin which was the last known coordinates of the mutant they were seeking.

"Hey," Bobby sounded indignant, "if it snows, I'm your man. Honestly, I'm not feeling the love in this group, at all."

"Let's just try to get back to civilization before we have to worry about the weather," Jean suggested and then nearly ran into Logan as he stopped suddenly and sniffed the air.

"Kid ain't there," he said, then started to veer off to the left.

JP dashed forward to the cabin and within a few seconds was back, "He's right, empty, but has signs of someone being in there recently."

"Logan?" Scott asked the man who had now squatted, fiddling with the ground.

"Kid went this way, followed by two others," he sniffed again, "the air is thick with fear."

"Brotherhood?" they had checked, none seemed to have been in the area.

The man shook his head, "I'd say locals."

"Ah, great, the local lynch mob has arrived," Bobby said drolly.

"We better find him before they do," Scott gestured back to the bikes, "JP, scout ahead, Logan, you're on point."

Logan gave the other Canadian a general direction and the man disappeared, they all got back onto their snowmobiles and proceeded to follow.

As Scott looked across the snow covered plains and the white topped mountains… all he could see… was red.

* * *

**_X-Men: The (fan fic) Series_**

* * *

**On the next episode of **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series…**_

_— "Jeanne-Marie!" – Jean-Paul_  
_"Aurora!" – Jeanne-Marie_

_— "This is a short mission, a couple of days in South America and we're out again." – Quicksilver_

_—"Aurora is a completely distinct and separate personality?" – Scott_

_—"What does Magneto want with Mengele's notes?" – Rogue_

_—"Everyone thinks they know what's best for Marie, but no one knows her better than me, this is your only warning, leave… us… alone." – Aurora_

_—"Jeanne-Marie has Mutation Induced Dissociative Identity Disorder." – Jean-Paul_

_**Episode 1X05 – Second Star to the Right**_

* * *

**1X04 – Midsummer Night's Dream**

Written by JayCee

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

Executive Producer – JayCee  
Co-Producer – Chellerbelle  
Script Consultant – ginchy

This is an unofficial fan site. It is not sponsored, licensed, or approved by Marvel Characters, Inc, Marvel Studios, Marvel Entertainment, 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, Fox Broadcasting Company, Ford Motor Company, or any other entities which may receive direction mention.

"X-Men" is a registered trademark of Marvel Characters, Inc.

All original content Copyright © 2012-2013 JayCee and xmenthefanficseries DOT com  
All trademarks are properties of their respective owners.


	7. 1X05 - Second Star to the Right

**Notes: **There will be a hiatus after this episode, I have a convention this coming weekend, then Thor comes out the following. Hiatus' are typical of tv shows as they can be pre-emptied for special events, holiday's etc. I'll post some sneaks on my blog so keep an eye out.

As always, big thanks for reading!

* * *

_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series  
**_**Episode #: **1X05  
**Title: **Second Star to the Right

**Summary:** Jeanne-Marie's mental stability grows worse and Jean-Paul is at a lost how to help her before she spirals out of control. The Acolytes fly to South America and face a moral dilemma.  
Rated TV-14 for language.

* * *

**Previously… on **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**_

—"_He has a twin sister, Jeanne-Marie, also got the invulnerable skin, but instead of the metabolism she has highly defined and dense bone and muscle structure." – Rita_  
_"How defined and dense?" – Val_  
_"Girl can fly." – Rita_

—"_Don't be daft, you were in the military, I was teaching school, remember." – Jeanne-Marie_  
_"No, Jeanne, you joined the Canadian Army with me, you were approached by Department H first, you were offered the advanced-" -JP_  
_"Big brother is talking nonsense." – Jeanne-Marie_

—"_Jeanne-Marie Beaubier's file is an interesting read, even her redactions have redactions." – Rita_

—""_I'll talk to the Professor, and if it is true, it'll have to be approached delicately." – Jean_

* * *

**1X05 – Second Star to the Right – Teaser**

"_Picture yourself in a boat on a river with tangerine trees and marmalade skies__**,**_**"** Ben started to sing the Beatles song as the group gathered around the Lucy exhibit, "_s__omebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, a girl with kaleidoscope eyes_."

"Ben, knock it off," Jubes complained, pressing her headphones to her ears, "we're trying to listen to the audio tour."

"_Lucy in the sky with diamonds_," the young mutant continued on, "_Lucy in the sky with diamonds_."

Jean-Paul looked to Scott who shook his head, both knowing that trying to get in the middle of the situation would only guarantee an escalation. Eventually, after a little name calling and at least one stuck out tongue, Ben shut up and let them finish listening to the insightful information regarding Lucy, the skeleton of one of the most complete early hominids who existed over two million years ago. She was the star exhibit in the Anne and Bernard Spitzer Hall of Human Origins at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City.

Checking the reflections on the displays, Jean-Paul watched his sister, Jeanne-Marie, stand timidly off to the side, her long black hair covering her face. His sister always liked natural history, he thought brining her along might waken up some of her old self. Ever since he pulled her out of the Department H testing facility she had been withdrawn, quiet. Nothing like the Jeanne-Marie he grew up with.

"Makes you wonder, about what Christy said," Meg mused as they took their turns getting up close to the glass that encased the skeleton, the girl embracing her pink hair and only wearing a long coat to cover her wings, "are mutant's part of the ongoing evolution of mankind or have we always existed? Could Lucy have been a mutant herself maybe?"

"Don't know if I'd go that far," Christy frowned as she stepped back from the case.

"I always believed in Genesis, God created us in his image," Sharon had on a pair of lightly tinted glasses to hide her cat eyes, "but now I'm not so sure."

"Ugh, ladies," Jubilee wrapped her arms around Meg and Sharon, "no talking about religion, politics, or the ending of _LOST_ on school trips, you'll ruin my 'not having to attend class' buzz."

The group of kids laughed and started to head off into the next exhibit area. Scott was with them so Jean-Paul stayed behind, watching as Jeanne-Marie walked up to Lucy, putting her hand on the glass.

"_Lucy in the sky, with diamonds,_" she sang lightly, little more than a hum really.

"You used to love the Beatles," he gave a small smile at the memories, "had a poster of that Abby Road album cover on your wall when we were growing up."

Jeanne-Marie's body jerked slightly as she stood up straight, her face turning sharply towards him. "I did, didn't I," she said angrily, poking her finger at him, "I had a pretty good thing going for me at home, then you had to go all queer and get us kicked out."

"Wait, what?" he didn't know how to react to the venom in her voice and the steel coldness in her eyes. He'd never seen his sister act like that before, "Jeanne-Marie—"

"Aurora!" she snapped and then stomped away towards the school kids at a determined pace.

"Marie!" he shouted after her, about to zip forward but conscious of a crowd of tourists whose attention they had garnered, not to mention all the hidden cameras the building was likely to have.

Instead, he increased his pace until he caught up with her as she entered the Arthur Ross Hall of Meteorites. The main section was a circular room, the walls lit up with displays and information regarding various impact sites around the world.

"Hey, Christy," Jubes was calling the terrakinetic girl over to a large stone known as the Cape York Meteorite, which stood well over six feet tall, "this sucker's so heavy it has extra structural support, your kind of rock!"

"Marie," he tried again, grabbing her by her arm, "stop, what's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" she snapped, grabbing his hand and nearly crushing his fingers with her super strength causing the man to let out a gasp of pain as she torqued his body. "You get us kicked out of our home. You get us involved in the military. Then you run away to some bratty school for _freaks_ like us, dragging me with you."

The pain in his hand was forgotten as her words cut through him as if his body was simply smoke and air. He fell to his knees as she continued to force him down, lording over him with an almost manic look on her face.

The group went quiet, Scott stepping forward cautiously, "JP?"

"Of course," Jeanne rolled her eyes, "it's always about you," she spat at Jean-Paul, "isn't it."

To highlight her words, she grabbed a chunk of his shirt and threw him across the room to land square against the Cape York Meteorite. The kids who were gathered around it scattered as the force of the impact caused the massive stone to wobble. JP looked up to see it tip towards him but then stop mid fall as Christy reached out with her terrakinesis to pushed it back into place.

Jeanne-Marie proceeded to grab the smaller meteorites off the displays, they were the size of bowling balls and very dense but she juggled the two rocks like they were nothing but foam, "You always had to be the center of attention."

She accented the last word by throwing one of the meteorites straight at him and he dodged out of the way. James, with his super strength, leapt sideways to grab the meteorite before it shattered against Cape York.

"Jubilee," Scott shouted, "get everyone out."

Jean-Paul zipped up in front of Jeanne-Marie, grabbing her by the shoulders, "Marie, snap out of it."

"Jeanne-Marie," she spoke the name as if it was poison. "You'd like me to be quiet, sullen, do-whatever-her-brother-says Marie, wouldn't you?"

"I don't understand what's wrong," he searched her eyes and found nothing but hatred in them. He'd never seen his sister act this way…

"You're what's wrong," she pushed him again with her free hand but this time he was ready and used his speed to keep from being thrown around.

"Jeanne-Marie," Scott stepped forward with his hands up in a non-threatening manner. JP looked around to see that the students had been filtered out of the room by Jubilee.

"Aurora!" she shouted at the optic mutant angrily.

"Aurora," the X-Men leader attempted to get on her good side. "You obviously have something to say, so why don't we talk, outside, on the bus."

"Don't treat me like an idiot," she lobbed the second meteorite at him and he caught it in both arms, but unlike James who had super strength, Scott went flying backwards out of view in a gasp of breath.

"Stop it," Jean-Paul snapped, "this isn't you!"

"No," she looked at him coldly, "it isn't," Jeanne-Marie leapt up into flight, moving to hover over the Cape York Meteorite. "Jeanne-Marie always had to do what _you_ said. Aurora doesn't give a shit."

The woman reached down to grab the meteorite but a blast from Scott's optic beam shot out at her and knocked her back. Seeing that she was about to fall downwards, Jean-Paul rushed forward and caught her, the twins tumbling to the ground.

"Marie," his voice trembled as he pushed her hair from her face.

His twin blinked rapidly, a scared look on her face, "Jean-Paul? What… what's happened?"

"It's okay," he hushed her gently, "It's gonna be okay," but he barely believed his own words…

* * *

**_X-Men: The (fan fic) Series_**

Based off Marvel Comics _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

* * *

**1X05 – Second Star to the Right – Act I**

It was suggested his presence could upset her again but he would not leave. Deciding that at least keeping his distance was wise, JP watched quietly from down the hall as the doctor finished examining his sister.

Cecilia Reyes was just a bit older than him, a lovely woman with dark skin and braids in her hair. She worked her way through med school the old fashioned way, three jobs while burning the candle at both ends. Now she was helping both humans and mutants alike through her work at low income clinics after spending several years as a premiere ER doctor.

Since usually mutants were unable, or afraid, to go into the hospital, she ended up treating them in the make-shift clinic she had set up in her apartment's spare room.

"How is she, Cecilia?" JP asked as the woman came down the hall.

"I've run all tests I can here and physically, she's fine," the woman told him, glancing over at Scott who had taken up position leaning against the kitchen counter, "her invulnerability took the physical force of the blast, the accompanying concussion had a muted effect, this is likely what snapped her out of whatever was causing her violent outburst."

"JP," Scott said softly, "if there was any other way…"

"I know," and he did, in his mind he knew, but a part of him was just a little bit angry at the man, "she was out of control, about ready to wreck the place."

"Has she ever been prone to outbursts?" the doctor asked, "Mood swings?"

"Nothing as bad as this," JP shook his head, not wanting to accept the truth staring him in the face, "not before I pulled her from the Department H testing facility outside Quebec."

"What kind of tests were they doing?" she asked courteously but left no room for him to avoid the question.

"I don't know all the particulars," he closed his eyes to both think back and to hide the pain in them, "I didn't rate high enough so I wasn't part of the advanced programs, they were 'classified'."

"Didn't rate high enough?" Cecilia questioned, "What kind of ranking system were they using?"

"I didn't understand it completely and it seemed a bit arbitrary," JP shook his head, "but she was what they called a Class Five, I was a Class Four," he let himself have a quick, small smile, "she never let me live that down."

There was a knock on the door and Cecilia moved to see who was there through the peep hole. Unbolting the lock and unclasping the chain, she let in Jean and Bobby.

"How is she?" Jean asked almost immediately.

"Physically, she's fine," Cecilia gave the same answer as before.

"How did everything go on your end?" Scott asked the newcomers.

"Storm should be back at the mansion with the kids by now," Jean informed him, "they seem to have taken this in stride."

"Good," the man nodded, "and the museum?"

"With a little help from Jean," Bobby pipped in, holding up a black business portfolio, "and a tax deductible donation, the public will be none the wiser."

JP frowned, he knew the Professor had a 'cover up' fund built into the budget, it was inevitable that one of the mutants learning how to use their powers would cause some public damage. However, Jeanne-Marie wasn't a kid, she had control of her powers, but she didn't have control of herself.

"Do we know what happened, with Marie?" Jean asked gingerly.

Cecilia and Scott turned to JP, they both knew what happened, or guessed closed enough, but Jeanne-Marie was his sister, his responsibility. He gave a heavy sigh, "Marie has Mutation Induced Dissociative Identity Disorder."

…

"So, wait," Kitty scratched her head as she sat on one of the bench seats outside the Professor's office, "Jeanne-Marie has a split personality?"

"Mutation Induced Dissociative Identity Disorder," Jean corrected her as she leaned against the opposite wall.

The young girl knitted her brow, "So basically a split personality."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Jean frowned.

"The Professor always warned us that pushing our powers too quickly is dangerous, physically and mentally," Scott added as he stood off to the side, the whole team sans JP and Storm gathered outside the Professor's office, even Wolverine came to check up on the situation.

"Yeah," Bobby added thoughtfully, "he told me once it's like trying to run a decathlon without any proper training. You're going to tear tendons, pull muscles, maybe even break bones or stroke out."

"Exactly," Scott nodded to the man, "and the trauma of using your mutant abilities without training can cause severe mental disruption, often manifesting as a dissociative disorder."

"Dissociative Identity Disorder," Kitty said each word deliberately, "the core conscious can't handle the pain and enormity of using their powers at full tilt so the mind creates another personality who can, ergo, split personality."

Jean looked like she was going to open her mouth to argue some point of that but then decided better of it.

"That's what we think happened with Marie," Bobby asked no one in particular, "she got pushed too hard in Department H?"

"JP said she'd been acting timid, withdrawn, not like herself," Scott pointed out, "I guess he was hoping it was some form of PTSD and she just needed time. The Professor will determine if it's truly MIDID."

"I can tell you right now," Logan finally joined the conversation, "if she was selected for an advanced weapons program, they would have pushed her till they broke her, then pushed her till they broke her again, and even farther till there was nothing left to fix."

…

"Jeanne-Marie," the Professor gently pulled the girl's attention away from the window, "you were telling me what happened."

"Oh, ah," she said timidly, nothing like the brazen woman who would have surely destroyed half the museum just because she was angry. "I was singing… and I remembered something…"

"What did you remember?" he encouraged her, well aware of JP and Storm standing off to the side.

"I don't," she frowned, her hands twitching nervously, "I don't remember…"

"It's okay," the telepath assured her, "you don't have to remember," he reached over to his desk to pick up a small length of rebar from the stash they used in training the super strength mutants and passed it over to Jeanne-Marie. "Marie, I'd like you to try to bend this for me."

"Okay," she took the metal bar curiously, then with all her strength, her knuckles turning white at the exertion, she attempted what he asked but the bar didn't bend.

"It's okay," he gently took the rebar from her hands and put it back on the desk. As politely as he could he said, "It was just a test, I know you couldn't have bent it."

"Yeah," she gave a soft laugh, "Jean-Paul is the one with the special powers."

Out of the corner of his eye, Charles could see JP was about to speak up but he didn't have to stop him, Storm placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Charles then continued with his verbal questions as he gently poked around in her mind, not going too deep, both out of respect and to keep her from possibly lashing out again. "Marie, do you know where you were two years ago?"

"Of course," she looked at him as if he was being silly, "I was teaching, at Ecole des Ursulines."

"That's a girls school in Quebec City," JP filled them, it had sounded familiar to Charles but he couldn't place it. "Marie went there for several years when we were teens, she even thought about becoming… a nun…" his words trailed off.

"I did become a nun," she looked at her brother as if he was the one who was confused, "remember, I was in the middle of class and you said you needed me come with you."

Storm kept JP from replying, "Yes, he told us this story, many times," the regal woman held JP back, "Marie, it's almost dinner. Would you like to help in the kitchen again?"

"Oh, yes, of course," she nodded then politely turned to the Professor, "you'll excuse me?"

"Yes," he smiled gently at her, "thank you."

Storm and Marie headed out the side entrance to the office and as soon as the door was closed, JP nearly exploded, "What did they do to her?"

"That, I cannot fathom without more deeply penetrating her mind," he pointed out as he sent a mental message to Jean, "something I will not do until I must."

"She never used to be like this," JP was shaking he head.

The Professor raised a brow, "Like what, Jean-Paul?"

"Meek," he spoke the word as if he hated it, "I mean, she wasn't totally brazen like she was at the museum but there was a definite… spark. She was always good, well-mannered, but she spoke her mind when it suited her and liked to have fun. She'd made a horrible nun, she said so herself."

By the time his tirade had ended, the team had made their way into the room.

"It's my assumption," Charles sighed, having seen this before, "that her handlers in Department H pushed her so hard that the brazen side of Marie, all her toughness and grit, became its own person. Her core personality disassociated itself from the weaker, gentler, aspects, probably in an effort to save them."

"So," Scott asked as JP stood processing what this meant, "Aurora is a completely distinct and separate personality?"

"I haven't spoken to Aurora yet," Charles admitted, "but Jeanne-Marie has rewritten herself. 'Marie' doesn't remember Department H, doesn't remember ever being a mutant. Instead she's created a fictional back story to explain any gaps. Aurora is likely the same, a complete personality with her own history and relationships."

Bobby raised his hand, "Wait, she doesn't remember being a mutant? How does that work?"

"Well," the Professor rolled back behind his desk, "like most abilities, once you have control, as Marie does, you can turn them on and off. Even with super-strength which is a matter of muscle and bone structure, a mutant learns not to always grip so hard. Marie has, essentially, forgotten that she has more strength than an average person and has locked her mind off to the possibility of being able to use super strength."

"What about her invulnerability," Scott pointed out, "it's a passive byproduct of her genetic structure. She can't choose not use it like she can her super strength."

"I'm not sure," he thought about it for a second, "and although a few simple tests could answer the question, it may also set Aurora off. Best if we make no assumptions at this time."

"Why Aurora?" Kitty asked in the silence. "Why is she calling herself that?"

"Aurora was her call sign in Department H," JP informed her as he started to pace, "Is there anything we can do to help Jeanne-Marie?"

"It will be a slow process," he sighed, "but through counseling and some telepathic therapy, I believe we have every chance of being able to reintegrate the two personalities, as long as those are the only two. In the meantime, I suggest you treat Jeanne-Marie as Marie, we don't want to upset that personality."

"You want us to play into my sister's fantasy?" he asked incredibly.

"It's not a fantasy, Jean-Paul," he corrected that belief, "Marie believes this and nothing you can say or do will make her believe she is not a former school teacher. You would only cause grief which would likely trigger Aurora. Believe me when I say that I _have_ seen this before and she must be handled with care."

…

A glass shattered on a stone floor followed by a distinctly Australian string of unintelligible curses.

"You okay in there, St John?" Rogue asked casually from her spot in the middle of the sofa, flipping through a motorcycle magazine.

"I've been traumatized," he said as he started to pick the big pieces of glass off the ground to throw into the trash, "this glass just leapt out of the cabinet and attacked, good thing the floor was here to protect me."

"I hear the toaster put a hit out on you," she didn't bother looking away from her reading.

There was a distinctive pause before, "Well, wouldn't be the first time."

Quicksilver zipped through and shot up the stairs and banged on Dom's door, "Meeting, now."

Their speedy-leader was downstairs before Dom was even able to get his door open. The man casually leaned over the railing, "Mission?"

"Yes," Pietro nodded and made sure he had everyone's attention. "We're heading out in three hours, I got a plane fueling up as we speak."

"Bother," Pryo, who hadn't bothered to get up from the floor, banged his head against the cabinets, "we just got home. You guys stocked the fridge and everything!"

"This is a short mission," Pietro placated the pyromaniac, "a couple of days in South America and we're out again."

"Doing what?" Rogue asked.

"I don't have all the details yet," the man admitted with some annoyance, "but we'll be flying down to Brazil, so pack accordingly."

"Hardware?" Dom questioned from his perch.

"Ploughman's Special," he used their term for basically brining a little of this and a bit of that.

Rogue stood and faced Pietro, "You honestly have no idea what the mission is?"

"Magneto said he'd fill us in when we got there," he shrugged, "this isn't the first time he's done that."

"I know," the Southerner tossed her magazine onto the coffee table, "but I think we'd all prefer a bit more prep."

"You've got three hours," he told her blankly and for a second she thought that maybe he wasn't telling her everything, "make the most of it," and he sped off into the work room.

"And I was going to make lamb for supper," Pyro said forlornly.

…

"I'm sending my best people after it," Magneto did not sound please as he sat in front of a laptop in one of his many private warehouses, "as requested."

"Good," there was a bit of a smirk to the man's voice coming from the speakers.

"This is busy work," he barely resisted the urge to scowl, such an action was beneath him, "hardly worth the time of my Acolytes."

"I could think of much more productive things they could be doing," the man gave a bit of a laugh, "but a deal… _is_ a deal."

"Yes," Magneto replied gravely.

"Aww, cheer up, Erik," the man on the screen was having entirely too much fun, "once this job is over you won't even have to _think_ about me for another six months."

Magneto stared at him for a short, dull, moment, "Are you quite finished?"

"You know where to send it when you have it," there was a bit of sing song to his voice, "ta ta."

The screen went black and Magneto slowly closed the laptop, staring down at the smooth black of the case. He took in one even breath… then the laptop went flying across the room to smash against one of the heavy metal pillars holding up the second floor of the warehouse.

Pietro Maximoff appeared after a short wisp of wind, his eyes glancing over to the wrecked remains of the computer but he knew better than to ask.

"The team is ready to depart," the younger man said crisply.

"Here are the final details," a USB floated off the table over to Pietro, "it's little more than a fact finding mission. You and the others should have little difficulty."

"Of course," Quicksilver pocketed the drive after a second glance. He went to turn to leave, but stopped, "This is another mission… for him."

"It is a mission," Magneto said simply, though there was a gravitas to his voice that dared the younger man to argue.

"The Acolytes, the Brotherhood," and Pietro did challenge him, "are so much better than this."

Slowly Magneto tipped his head up to meet the boy eye to eye, "We _are_ the best. The best at protecting our fellow mutants who can't protect themselves against those would dissect them as a curiosity," there was a deep timber to his voice and shadows in his eyes, "therefore _nothing_ is beneath us. We do… whatever it takes."

The younger mutant stood stunned for what was a short moment but for him a long while. He nodded his understanding, a mix of awe and fear in his own eyes. Stepping back, he disappeared much as he appeared, leaving Magneto standing alone in the quiet warehouse.

"Whatever it takes…"

* * *

**1X05 – Second Star to the Right – Act II**

It was the kind of open air, quant looking, café where old sun-baked men sat and drank beers while reading a newspaper. The Acolytes looked decidedly out of place and were written off as 'tourists' by the islanders of _Fernando de Noronha_ off the coast of Brazil.

"Seriously," Pyro laid down the travel brochure, "not only do you bring me to a place listed as a World Heritage Site, which I'm not allowed to burn those," he was gratuitous with the finger quotes, "but one whose main tourist activity is scuba diving… in _water_."

Rogue and Avalanche looked between each other, both slightly worried at what could happen with a bored Pyro on their hands.

"Wait," Quicksilver raised his hand to hold any conversation, "since when are you not allowed to burn down World Heritage Sites?"

"You know," the Australian shrugged, "after Yakushima…"

"Oh," he remembered the incident but couldn't understand the connection.

Rogue leaned over and said, "His parents found out."

"Ah," that made more sense.

"I said I would _try_," Pyro explained, "after all, if I wouldn't burn down Uluru then I shouldn't burn down other natural wonders."

"How would you burn a rock?" Avalanche asked, mild curiosity washed over his rhetorical question.

"Logistics are tricky but it could be done," the Aussie assured him, "I've put thought into this."

The waitress picked that moment to bring them their beers. Once she was gone, Quicksilver pushed his tablet pc towards the middle of the table.

"This is our mission," he brought up a file, a scanned copy that looked like a typical military dossier, circa World War II, with a brown and white photo of a man in his late thirties, "his name is Gregor Fuchs, he has the distinction of being an assistant at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute during the Second World War."

"Kaiser Wilhelm Institute," Rogue's eyes went distant, odds are he just riled up several voices in her head, "Mengele did work there."

"Wait," Pyro's head popped up, "Josef 'Angel of Death' Mengele?"

"Mengele was an assistant to a man named Otmar von Verschuer," he swiped the image and brought up another file, "he was also interested in Eugenics but not to the extent of Mengele. Verschuer was very curious about twins and studied them extensively."

"Did either of them know about mutants?" Avalanche asked.

"I can't see how they couldn't have," Rogue replied, "not with how many people they must have experimented on."

"We don't know for sure," Quicksilver admitted, "at the close of the war Verschuer supposedly destroyed Mengele's notes as well as his own."

"Seems suspicious," Pyro flicked open his lighter, "burning everything, but then Mengele's notes aren't exactly something I'd want just laying about, innocent or no."

"As we know," the silver haired leader ignored the pyromaniac, "Mengele fled to South America and died in Brazil in the 70s. Our Gregor Fuchs," he swiped the picture back over, "also came to South America at the close of the war, only a month after Mengele's papers were burned."

Everyone sat thoughtfully, Avalanche speaking up, "Are we thinking Fuchs brought with him Mengele's notes?"

"Could be a coincidence," Quicksilver admitted, "Mengele lived south of here in Argentina while Fuchs came directly to Brazil, probably Rio, before moving to and possibly dying on this island. This was of course after he changed his name, to what we don't know. We need to find him if he's still alive, or what he might have left behind if he's not."

"Wait, you don't know if he's still alive," Rogue pointing out the failure in the logic chain, "or even his name? Then how do we know he came to the island?"

"His name popped up not too long ago, someone was researching him," the leader explained, "the trace came back to this café and their free wifi."

"That doesn't mean Fuchs is or has been on this island," she countered.

"But it's a lead," and with that he won the discussion, Rogue nodding her agreement.

"If…" Pyro started, thinking for a second, "if Fuchs came to Brazil with the notes then moved over here, wouldn't he have already given everything to Mengele?"

"Mengele was never known to have gotten them back, they were not found on his person or in his effects when he died," Quicksilver pointed out, "it could be Fuchs was holding the notebooks and Mengele never got a chance to get them. It's also possible Fuchs stole them for himself. Or maybe…" he sighed, "maybe we're chasing nothing. Either way, we're here to find out."

…

The group knew what to do and broke up to follow their individual leads. But before heading out, Rogue cornered Quicksilver in the alley behind the café, "What does Magneto want with Mengele's notes?"

"I wouldn't know," he was short with her.

"We're talking about Mengele," Rogue shook her head, "the man who was personally responsible for the deaths of countless during the holocaust," she really couldn't wrap this around her head, "Of all people, Magneto shouldn't want to come within a parsec of anything that man did."

"Normally, yes," Quicksilver got that frustrated look in his eyes when he felt someone was wasting his time, "but think about it Rogue, we're in the middle of a war, if our kind is to survive, to not become the next holocaust, we need every advantage we can get."

"Advantage?" she practically laughed the word. "He experimented on _children_. Any 'advantage' he could have discovered isn't worth it."

"He did horrible things," the man admitted the grey area he was walking, "but we can't change the past, undo what he did, but maybe… maybe some good can come of it by taking his own research and using it to help people instead of subjugate them."

"Nothing good can come of this," she said harshly.

"Nothing?" he stared down at her, "What if in his notes was the key to control? Universal control."

The thought hadn't even crossed Rogue's mind she was so incensed over the issue, but now that he mentioned it, it did give her a moment to pause. Control was likely the one thing she'd sell her soul to the devil for… "Don't _even_ go there."

"This is our mission, Rogue," he told her pointedly, "you want out, just say."

"And now you're turning this back on me," she was disgusted but unsure at whom. The silver haired man knew Rogue never turned her back on her friends, the Acolytes, her mother, or Magneto.

He ignored her accusation, "You in or you out?"

"In," she sighed reluctantly, "but I don't like any of this."

"No one said you had to," he said wryly and then zipped away, leaving Rogue to stew in her own thoughts.

What if the answer to her control issues truly did lie in the notes of a man who did unspeakable horrors? Would she truly sell her soul for that information? She really hoped she wasn't going to have to find out.

What would be worse, saying no or saying yes.

…

It was getting close to lunchtime, the cook and staffers preparing taco fixings, it was Taco Tuesday after all. Charles rolled his chair into the kitchen where Marie was chopping up tomatoes. The woman was humming softly to herself.

"Marie," he gently got her attention.

"Oh, yes Professor?" she said shyly.

"I came by to see how you were feeling today," he said politely.

"I'm feeling great," she gave him a silly look, continuing to slice and dice, "why wouldn't I be?"

"Just a general inquiry," he smiled and took note that her long hair was shorter, still long to the shoulder but trimmed up from where it used to lay down her back. "When did you cut your hair?"

"Cut my hair?" she frowned, one hand going up to ends of her tresses. Once she realized it was indeed a good two inches shorter she got very confused. "How odd."

Charles considered the implications and asked, "Marie, has anything else 'odd' occurred lately?"

"No," she shrugged and went back to cutting the vegetable that's technically a fruit, but then paused, "though, now that I think of it. Somehow I got Betsy's or Jean's clothes mixed up with mine in the laundry, must be theirs, it's much more risqué than anything I would wear. I keep meaning to ask them about it…" she trailed off, shaking her head as if something was bothering her but she didn't know what.

"Have you been over-tired lately," he ventured, "as if you haven't gotten enough sleep?"

"Now that you mention it," Marie frowned again, "but it's nothing. You'd think I'd be used to dealing with kids all day," she laughed slightly, "but every job isn't without its challenges."

"Of course," Charles did not like what the evidence was adding up to, "well, I will leave you to your preparations."

"Later, Professor," she said nicely but it was obvious something was bothering her by the crease in her brow.

Turning his wheelchair around, Charles decided he needed to speak to JP as soon as possible and was in the process of sending the man a telepathic summons when something flew dangerously past him. He instinctively dodged his head to the side though it was obvious it wasn't intended to hit him as the sharp bladed knife impaled itself in one of the pillars separating the kitchen from the serving stations.

Quickly he swung his chair around to see Marie leaning over the cutting table, her jaw set and sure, nothing of the timid Marie in her eyes.

"Aurora," there was no mistaking the difference between the two women even though they shared the same body. Every inch of Aurora was power without a hint of insecurity.

The few people in the kitchen, the cook and the kitchen duty students, had all paused, not knowing what to do. He sent them a general calming message, he would handle this.

"Back off, old man," Aurora said simply but dangerously.

"You know we can't do that," he did not show her any fear, "we want to help you."

"Fucking bleeding hearts," she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms, "always think you know best."

"Marie and Aurora cannot co-exist," he told her pointedly, "eventually the illusion will break and Jeanne-Marie will have to deal with whatever caused this. I think you know that."

"Everyone thinks they know what's best for Marie," she gave him a disgusted look before turning harsh, "but no one knows her better than me," she leaned against the table again, her eyes as cold as steel, "this is your only warning, leave… us... alone."

Charles was about to retort but Aurora slumped and blinked rapidly for a moment. She glanced around the table, "Where'd my knife go?"

…

"How can Aurora be aware of Marie," Scott asked the obvious question, "but Marie not aware of Aurora?"

"For all our research and advances in the past few decades," the Professor sighed, "the brain is one of the least understood parts of the human body. At this point we likely know more about Mars than we do how the mind works, especially one which has Mutation Induced DID."

"Aurora has a sense of self-preservation," Jean pointed out to the team gathered around in the conference room, JP standing at the window, "she came out when the Professor realized the museum wasn't an isolated event and Aurora must be sneaking out of the mansion."

"Wait, what?" Bobby asked.

"None of us are missing any clothes," Jean explained the logic, "Marie has never left the School by herself, so if she's getting extra clothes she must be going out and buying them, not mention getting her hair cut, that was a professional job."

"Does she even have any money?" Kitty was the one to ask.

"Yes," JP spoke up, "Department H paid well and there was no time to spend it, so we stored it in an offshore account. Aurora must know Marie's banking information," he turned towards the group, "but the real question is, how is she getting out unnoticed?"

The team glanced around at each other, then Scott admitted, "Marie was never considered a risk before. She's an adult, it's the kids we don't want sneaking out or the Brotherhood getting in. Plus I imagine her time in Department H taught her a few things."

"So we put a stop to it then," the twin crossed his arms in a move very reminiscent of Aurora.

"That ain't the wisest idea," Logan spoke up. "Aurora has self-preservation, as Red said, which means if we start encroaching on her 'me' time, she's gonna get real testy and her throwing knives will be the least of our troubles."

"We can't just sit back and do nothing," JP said hotly.

"We won't be," the Professor assured him. "We need to gather more information and see how best to approach both personalities. Antagonizing one of them will do us no good."

JP looked like he wanted to say something but shook his head, his lips a thin line. It was obvious the man didn't like the situation, Charles hoped this didn't affect the twin's judgment.

…

Rogue went to the library and Quicksilver checked out the local museums and historical locations while Pyro scoured the internet for any sign of the man who was once Gregor Fuchs.

The buildings were quaint, volumes upon volumes of old newspaper articles threw dust into the air, and Quicksilver broke the land-speed record for using a Microfiche machine.

Each where doing their part to unravel a mystery and find a man who made himself lost over half a decade ago.

Avalanche… he went to the local fisherman's pub and ordered a pint of whatever was on tap.

…

"Professor?" Jean asked as she walked into his office after being summoned.

"Sorry," he was putting down his phone, "was just speaking to Sean. The boy you picked up in Alaska last week, Chad, is settling in well."

"I'm glad he decided to go," she nodded as she thought about it, "Sean really is the best person to teach him how to control his sonic abilities, and Chad seemed like he could use the change of scenery."

"Alaska for Scotland," the Professor mused, "he traded one snowy, rocky terrain for another, but yes, it will do the lad good."

She smiled, always glad when they can help a young mutant, "Is that what you called me in here to tell me?"

"No," he admitted with a long breath, "I wanted to speak to you about Jeanne-Marie."

"Yes," Jean frowned, "her case is almost… mild… compared to the others we've seen."

There was a sadness in the older man's eyes, "She has only split into two distinct personalities, one powered, one not. The Aurora personality is self-aware to her situation, protective of herself, and seemingly of Marie."

"Aurora is the one we'll have to convince to integrate," Jean nodded, "if we push Marie then Aurora will come out. Unfortunately Aurora doesn't seem all that personable from what I've heard."

"No, she does not," he agreed, rubbing his chin.

The redhead asked the all important question, "How do we want to proceed?"

He took a moment to think it over, "We need to make Aurora more comfortable, willing to speak to us, not fight us."

"How can we encourage her to come out without being combative?" Jean asked as so far the only time the Aurora personality manifested for them was to fight them.

"We encourage her participation," Xavier started to lay out his plan, "and I'm afraid that falls under the rather generic and horribly archaic term of 'girls stuff'," he grimaced in apology and she tried not to laugh, "but if you could find a way to bring out and befriend Aurora, then we could get her talking, nudge her towards wanting to integrate with Marie and return to her core personality."

"That's going to be difficult," she frowned, "to re-merge means to re-live whatever emotionally or physically painful event that caused the break to occur," she sighed and splayed her hands, "and while it will be better for her in the long run, she will be quite reluctant."

"It won't be easy, nor will it happen overnight," he nodded, steepling his fingers, "it will take patience on all our parts."

Jean paused and glanced out the window, "I don't try to pry, but Jean-Paul has been projecting, he's blaming himself for his sister's condition."

"I had noticed that myself," the Professor grimaced again.

"JP's a good man," she sighed again, "but he has a brash streak in him, especially when he thinks he's lost control."

"I have told him he must be patience," he shrugged, "I can only hope he listens."

"Let's hope," she nodded, then creased her brow as a thought came to her, "Professor, Aurora is much like that part of her brother, brash, impetuous, impulsive, only without any measure of control, yes?"

"At this time," he took a second, "yes, I would call that a good diagnoses."

"Then if Aurora figures out I'm befriending her… just to get Jeanne-Marie back," the red head frowned, "then she's going to take it very… very badly."

Xavier thought on this, then gave a solemn nod, "Then let us hope you two have more in common than you realize."

…

There was a full moon out and not a cloud in the sky. It really was a beautiful night on the island paradise, but not one to be enjoyed by the Acolytes.

Pyro sat at the computer while Rogue and Quicksilver poured over several documents. Eventually, Rogue slumped in her seat, "Nothing."

"Fuchs was either brilliant in covering his tracks," Pyro frowned as he glared frustrated at the keyboard, "or it was entirely too easy for a person to change their name and disappear in the 50s."

"Probably a bit of both," Rogue said wryly.

"No one was looking for him," Quicksilver sat a log book down, "as I said, lowly lab tech."

"Then why does Magneto think he's important?" Sure, there was a lot of coincidence surrounding the man, but at the same time… who ever even heard of this guy?

"There's potential here," Quicksilver told her plainly, "that's enough."

It was a fair enough answer that Rogue let it slide for the time being and went back to the estate records she was reading through. A moment later, Avalanche came walking through the front door, looking and smelling just a shade of toasty.

"How was the bar?" Pyro grinned as the larger man slumped down in a plush chair.

"Need to expand their on-tap selection," he propped his feet up, "but not a well-drink in sight, I'll give them that."

"Discover anything useful?" Quicksilver said dryly.

"Fuchs changed his name to Kaminski, died in '02" he said as if finding this information was no big thing after the other three had spent all day searching only to come up with nothing, "he had a daughter who married a Padua. She passed away two years ago, cancer, had a son named Celso, runs a scuba rental company."

Pyro went to the computer and immediately started tapping away while Rogue and Quicksilver stared at the man. "You got this from the bar?" she really shouldn't have been surprised by that.

"Old men," he shrugged, "they always have something interesting to say, just have to listen."

"We need to search his home," Quicksilver started to put away the documents he had liberated from one of the museums, "we can look up where he lived."

"Don't bother," the Greek waved them off, "his home burned down in '76, moved onto a boat. That's since been sold to one of the men at the bar. He says he stripped her bare to restore her and found nothing odd or of interest. I believe he spoke the truth."

"Got it," Pyro interrupted, "Celso Padua, owner, operator, of Coral Bay Divemasters, oh," his head popped up, "half price diving lessons with a five day scuba equipment rental."

"No idea if he knows anything about his grandfather's history," Avalanche admitted.

"One way to find out," Quicksilver looked over at Rogue.

Sighing, "If he's not a mutant then there's no power buffer," she considered the mechanics of her mutation, "I can't hold on long enough to dig around without hurting him, I need him thinking about his grandfather so I can follow the memory chain."

Quicksilver nodded, understanding Rogue's limitations, "You want us to kidnap him?"

"And absorb his pain and fear at the same time," she pulled a face, "no thank you."

"Looks like someone's getting diving lessons," Pyro was entirely too happy about that.

"No guarantee he'll be my instructor," she shook her head then narrowed her eyes as a plan came to mind, "I need a boat."

…

Jean-Paul watched from the distance as a shadow moved around. It wasn't hard to figure out how she was getting in and out as, on occasion, she had snuck out of their home when they were teenagers. The window to her room opened and Aurora slid in, landing lightly on her feet. She had her hair up, styled, with a low cut top and skinny jeans, an outfit Jeanne-Marie might have worn but definitely not Marie.

Turning on the light, JP demanded, "Where have you been?"

Aurora stared blankly at him, crossing her arms, "Seriously?"

"You have to stop this," he stepped up to her, "put yourself back together and bring Jeanne-Marie back."

"Oh. My. God." she punctuated every word, "you really…" she laughed then waved her hand around in a circle, "you know what, you can take all this guilt you're feeling and shove it up your ass."

"That's not what this is about," he defended himself in a fluster.

"That's _exactly_ what this is about," she poked him hard in the chest, "_you_ were the reason we were kicked out of the house, _you_ were the one who said 'let's join the military' because _you_ had something to prove," she hit him hard enough he had to step back, "and _you_ were the one who thought going into the advanced program was a good idea."

He started to get angry, his sister knowing him well enough to push just the right buttons, "Jeanne-Marie never did anything she didn't want to."

"Ugh," Aurora rolled her eyes, "how could you be so fucking clueless?" she threw her hand up in a 'don't bother to answer' gesture, "just, go away," she gave a dismissive wave, "leave us alone, you've done enough damage already."

She turned to leave and he became incensed, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her towards him, "Now listen, Aurora—"

"Jean-Paul," his sister's facial and body language completely changed from confident warrior to meek mouse, her eyes wide in terror, "stop it, you're hurting me."

In his horror, he released Marie, "I'm sorry…" the words were hollow in his mouth. This woman, Marie, wasn't his sister either, but she was scared and frightened and it was all his fault.

"What…?" she looked down at herself, tugging at her clothes and trembling as confusion compounded the situation.

"Marie," he reached out to her but she flinched, pulling back.

"Stay away from me," Marie ran for the door and bolted out into the hallway.

Jean-Paul followed her but she didn't go far, only two doors down to Jean's room. Marie knocked rapidly and the telepath opened the door to have a crying Marie fall into her arms for protection. Jean looked up at Jean-Paul and it didn't take mind-reading skills to see the question in her face…

_What did you do?_

* * *

**1X05 – Second Star to the Right – Act III**

Jean closed the door to Marie's room, "I got her to go to sleep," she told JP as he stood anxiously, "but she was quite upset."

"Yeah," he rubbed his forehead, "I just…" he was at a loss to explain his anger, it all sounded like excuses to him, "Aurora goaded me into hurting Marie," he ground his jaw.

"I know she's your sister," Jean sighed as if she had given up on decency, "but we warned you to leave Marie and Aurora alone for the time being, that she wasn't going to be cured overnight."

"None of you knew Jeanne-Marie," his frustration began to brew again, "that woman in there is a mockery of her."

"And yelling at her won't get her back," the telepath took him by the arm and lead him away from Marie's door.

"What would you have me do," he snapped back at her, "because I'm not going to just leave her like this."

"You have to realize there is nothing you can do for her," Jean looked at him sadly as they stopped further down the hall, "let the Professor and I work on bringing the two personalities back together. We can only do so much, the two personalities have to, on some level, work with us and riling them up, especially Aurora, will only hinder progress."

"Do whatever you have to," he told her plainly, "but she's my sister, I'm responsible for her and will do whatever I have to to get her back, don't forget that."

"Somehow I doubt you'll let us," she gave him a sour look, "but I'm telling you the best thing you can do for Jeanne-Marie is to leave her alone."

JP gave a short, unhappy laugh, "You have no idea what you're asking."

"No," Jean admitted quietly, "I don't, but you still need to do it, for her sake."

Anger continued to simmer just under the surface at the whole ordeal, but mostly he was mad at himself for putting her in this situation in the first place.

Aurora had been right, this was all his fault.

…

There's nothing quite like the early dawn of a Brazilian island paradise.

Celso Padua had the morning off thanks to some last minute cancellations. The tourists had already paid their fees and accepted the no-returns policy which suited him just fine. He needed to work on his boat anyway, it was more than sea worthy but he had been meaning to strip down the lower deck and reseal it for awhile. If he could get it stripped this morning then he'd seal it tomorrow.

"You're such a wanker!" he heard someone shout and his English was good enough to know that particular insult.

"Do it your damn self," a man with red-orange hair came down one of the side ramps and started stalking down the dock, almost knocking Celso over.

"Watch where you're going," the man shouted at Celso before brushing past.

Celso was about to say something rude when someone else came around the corner shouting, "Fine, I will!"

Thoughts of rudeness left his mind as he saw the woman, a black bikini showing off her considerable assets, though she was covered in a white mesh, long sleeve, short hemmed, tunic. Her body was very lean though muscular, as if she was someone who worked out regularly. He could just make out a symbol tattooed on the right side of her stomach, just above her bikini line. It was Asian lettering but he couldn't tell the difference between Japanese, Chinese, or whatever else it could be.

Frustrated, the woman turned and went back down the ramp. Celso couldn't help but watch, checking out her backside. At the bottom of the ramp next to a medium schooner named _Anna-Marie_, she bent over and attempted to haul up some rigging.

Stripping the lower deck could wait.

"Need any help?" he asked in English as he headed down the ramp towards her.

"Huh?" she looked up at him warily since he was a stranger to her. After a second of consideration, she moved to the side, and in an Australian accent, or maybe New Zealand, he always got them confused, she said, "Thank you, you get that end?"

"Course," he smiled and together they managed to get the rigging ropes and equipment up onto the boat.

"Thank you," she held out her hand but it was covered in grease from some of the hoisting gears and while he didn't mind she pulled back and looked like she was going to wipe her hand on her mesh tunic but decided she didn't want to do that. With a cute laugh she said, "I'm Anna."

"Celso," he smiled at her, "happy to help."

She thought it over and said, "I put some coffee on earlier, would you… care to join me?"

He tried not to sound too eager, "Love some."

…

Knocking softly, Jean waited for Marie to open her door. The girl looked a tad disheveled from the night before, dressed in a 'granny' style nightgown, her hair pulled up into a bun.

"Marie," Jean smiled softly, "I've come to see how you are doing. Did you sleep okay?"

"Ah, yes," she nodded shyly, hiding herself somewhat behind the door, "but I don't remember a lot. I don't know why Jean-Paul attacked me like that."

"A misunderstanding, I assure you," she attempted not to be patronizing, "he wants to apologize but didn't want to upset you further."

The woman was older than Jean but she seemed like a frightened young girl, "I'm not sure I want to see him right now."

"I understand," Jean was sympathetic, "why don't you take the day off, relax, maybe have a hot bubble bath, it always makes me feel better," she gave a small laugh, "and when you're ready we'll sort this all out."

"That, ah," Marie offered a weak smile, "that does sound good actually."

"Great," she smiled, "and maybe tonight can be a girl's night, you, me, Betsy, Kitty, see what trouble we can get too."

Marie laughed nervously, "Thanks, but that's not really my scene."

"I think it could be," she put a slightly suggestive tint to her words, hoping Aurora would hear the offer, "you never know, right? Anyway, I'll come back by lunchtime, see how you're doing."

"Alright, thank you," Marie nodded and shut the door timidly.

Jean let out a long breath… one step at a time.

…

After talking to Jean, Marie was just a bit confused and, if she was honest, a little afraid. She didn't understand what happened last night… the clothes… her brother attacking her… and now Jean, who had always been nice to her, was now acting really friendly… what was going on?

Seconds later, Marie blinked and her features become more solid, confidence etching the corners of her features. Aurora was in control… and she had a pretty good idea of the answer to Marie's question.

Aurora gained a mischievous glint to her eyes…

…

Rogue was always the distraction because she was very… distracting. Sometimes she wondered where she might be if she hadn't been a mutant and been forced to run away. On days she was honest with herself, she knew she'd probably be working at the local diner. It was about the best she could have hoped for, all things considered.

"This is a nice schooner," Celso commented in his accented English as he accepted his cup of coffee after they moved into the cabin. Rogue made sure to put the cup down on the table instead of trying to hand it to him directly. It was too early to brush his skin.

"Thank you," she faked an Aussie accent, the absorbed voice of Pyro jibbing her saying 'I do not sound like that', even though he totally did, "it was my grandfather's. He passed away a few weeks ago, left this to me and my brother."

"Your brother?" he questioned a little too interestedly, she knew what he was thinking.

"You met him," she sat down next to the man, sipping her coffee, "well, ran into him is more like it."

"He ran into me," Celso defended himself but Rogue could see the wheels turning in his head, now realizing that she was more than likely single if that man wasn't her boyfriend.

"Sorry about that," she gave him her best apologetic pout, "we're having some disagreements about what to do with the _Anna-Marie_."

"Oh?" he was clearly checking her out but now feigned polite interest.

"He wants to sell it," Rogue sighed, "but this is all we have left of granddad. Sure, she needs some work, but sell her?"

"You could get a fair price for her," he glanced around appreciatively, then realizing his mistake corrected, "but that wouldn't compare to its emotional value."

"Exactly," she gave a thank you gesture, hands spreading out wide, "when we were young he took us out on the _Anna-Marie_ all the time. Sailing up the coast, pretending we were pirates. My brother and I, we were born in Sydney, you see, but grew up in Argentina. My mother was Australian but my father Argentina, though his father was English, moved there after the war… and you're so not interested in my family history," she went for a flaky, cute, vibe.

Maybe she could have tried her hand at acting?

"It's fine," he assured her, "you have a lot of memories of your grandfather, good ones too, there's nothing wrong in wanting to hold onto them."

"You're just saying that," she frowned, getting him to have to think quickly.

"No, no," he shook his head, "my grandfather first took me out on a boat when I but a few months old," he started to get that nostalgic look in his eye. "He taught me how to scuba when I was six, and always said there was much more to this world than the two dimensions of land and air."

"You loved your grandfather," she said softly as she reached forward, brushing his hand and instantly drawing in his life force.

Celso slumped into his seat and Rogue held on long enough to follow the memory chain that was linked to his grandfather. It was a success, she got what she wanted, a complete download of everything he knew about his grandfather and his possible life in Germany and afterwards.

As she shuffled through the memories the thuds of booted men came into the cabin.

"Get anything useful?" Quicksilver asked.

"Eu encontrei algo interessante," she said when she realized that Celso did know something that might help, "temos de ir para a terra firme."

"Um, Rogue," Pyro gave her a funny look, "you're speaking Portuguese."

Sighing, Rogue rubbed her head, she hated when that happened.

…

Bobby had his headphones in as he headed into the kitchen, going straight to the top-open deep freeze where he stashed his ice cream. Humming along to the song, he rummaged through the depths of the freezer only to find his ice cream was gone. "Jubilation Lee, I swear…"

Suddenly an open container of Ben and Jerry's appeared before him, "Looking for this?"

"Ah, yeah," he stood up and closed the lid, staring awkwardly at Jeanne-Marie who was not dressed in her typical high collar, long hem clothing. Instead she had on a tank top and low waist jeans**.** He would consider her quite hot if it wasn't for the fact that it was all way too weird. Slipping the ear buds out he asked, "Aurora?"

"You have good taste," she said as she dipped out a spoonful of the desert and ate it, slowly pulling the spoon out of her mouth… definitely awkward.

"Well," he laughed uncomfortably and tried to back away, "enjoy."

"I plan to," Aurora grinned and for every step he took back she took one forward, "going somewhere?"

"Well, you know taxes," he backed into one of the refrigerators, "they don't prep themselves."

She raised an eyebrow, "It's October."

He laughed awkwardly, "Never too early to catalogue deductions."

"I suppose," she pouted and saddled right up against him, "but I can think of some much more interesting things we could catalogue and de-duct."

Remembering she had super strength and could snap him in two, he pressed himself farther into the wall and tried not to touch her inappropriately, or at all. Bobby wondered just how mad people might be at him if he decided to ice Aurora, just enough to get her to back off so he could get away. His fingers started to ice up as he debated what to do.

"Aurora!" the word was barked and Bobby was both glad and terrified to see Jean-Paul standing in one of the kitchen entrances.

"Oh, go away," she rolled her eyes at her brother, backing off just enough to give Bobby some breathing room, but she grabbed the cyrokinetic by the shoulder, "or, I'm sorry, did you want this one for yourself?"

With that she pushed Bobby, her strength sending him flying forward, scrambling on his feet to keep upright. He ploughed into JP who didn't take any notice of him, simply batted him away as he kept his attention on his sister. Being knocked sideways, Bobby comically hit one of the pillars and sunk to the ground.

"You're embarrassing yourself," JP informed Aurora sharply.

"You mean, I'm embarrassing you," she shouted back smugly, "poor ol' self-righteous Jean-Paul."

"You're not going to goad me this time," he told her, crossing his arms.

"What a pity," she frowned, then grinned, "but I've gotten tired of little Miss 'get the to a nunnery' Marie anyway."

JP's eyes narrowed and Bobby decided that staying on the floor was his best chance at being ignored during the fight that was sure to ensue.

"What do you mean?" JP asked his pseudo sister.

"I mean that Marie had her moment and she wasted it," she pushed up off the ground to float above it, "I think it's time she slept awhile."

JP took a stumbling step forward, "You can't do this."

"Watch me," Aurora challenged and then flew off between the pillars, knocking over a bread serving truck and the shield guard for a food station on her way.

With a flash of light JP sped after her leaving Bobby to grab his phone from his pocket, quickly hitting speed dial.

"Hey," he said once it picked up, "we have a serious problem."

…

Most of the team met up in the hallway, Scott the first to ask, "Anyone seen either of them?"

Jean closed her eyes, "They're still here, in the house, but JP is running all over the place and Aurora isn't standing still either," she frowned as she shook her head, "her mind is so chaotic."

"Maybe we should just wait for them to calm down?" Kitty asked.

"Aurora's already destroyed two doors and three windows," Scott pointed out, "that we know about."

"She'll keep wrecking the place as long as JP is chasing her," Logan said gruffly, "that's why she's doing it."

Scott nodded in agreement, "Fan out, if you find JP, try to talk some sense into him, if you find Aurora, alert the team, do not engage."

…

Aurora was having way too much fun. If she wanted to do something she simply did it. If it annoyed her brother, that was even better.

He got her into this mess, it was all his fault.

Something at the back of her mind told her that wasn't strictly speaking true…

Brushing off the thought as nonsensical, of course her brother was to blame for everything, she continued to taunt him by knocking stuff over as she went down the hall.

Then she remembered the greenhouse conservatory on the roof of the mansion. With a diabolical giggle she went out a window, not bothering to open it, and flew up to the greenhouse.

So much glass… so little time.

She was just deciding on where to start when a voice boomed, "I can't let you continue this parade of destruction, Aurora."

Turning around, she saw the one they called Storm floating on the winds only a few feet from her, "And you're going to stop me, Weather Bitch?"

"If I must," she replied evenly.

"And just how are you going to manage that," Aurora scoffed at the woman who didn't even have super strength, in fact, she was light enough to be held up by the winds alone. "Why don't you go back to wiping the little brat's noses. You're out of your league."

A delicate eyebrow was raised and a hint of a smile passed through the woman's lips, "Little one, you have absolutely no idea what league I'm in."

…

JP was looking for his sister, every time he got close he'd have to save something from being totally destroyed and she'd get away again.

All he could think about was how everything was his fault, this was all his bloody fault. He should have protected her better, he should have seen what was happening, he should have—

In the middle of running through the kitchen, JP found himself being hauled sideways by a massive force which sent him to the ground, skidding into one of the tables.

_Snikt._

"Stay down," came Logan's very threatening voice as his claws were positioned entirely too close to comfort, "Adamantium trumps invulnerability."

"Aurora—"

"Is doing this to get at you," the man interrupted none too politely, "she's your sister, it's what siblings do, only Aurora doesn't have the sense to know when to stop, she has no more reservations."

JP didn't want to believe him and mentally fought every word… but he was right, "I can't just sit back and do nothing."

"Kid," the Wolverine softened his grip a little, perhaps a bit of sympathy playing on his face, "sometimes doing nothing is the best thing you can do for someone. It hurts like a bitch, but if they don't want help, you can't force them, it'll only make it worse."

The realization that the older man was right hit JP so hard he felt as if his heart would explode from the pressure.

"Logan," Bobby's voice called from across the room, "'Ro found Aurora, they're fighting above the mansion."

With a grumble, Logan grabbed JP by the collar and hauled the man up. "Don't even _think_ about running."

The three men headed over to the exit and rushed outside. Jean, Scott, and Kitty were already there, staring up into the sky.

"Who's winning?" Logan asked, still dragging the taller JP around by his collar.

"Who do you think?" Scott answered dryly.

Seconds later, one of the figures dropped forcefully from the sky, slamming into the stone patio, sending spider web cracks through the designs. Aurora attempted to lift her body and get up, but then her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed, passing out.

* * *

**1X05 – Second Star to the Right – Act IV**

"This isn't going to become a habit, is it?" the doctor asked as she joined the Professor and the X-Men team in the infirmary viewing area. Aurora could be seen through the glass, lying passed out on the medical bed. JP was absent, though most were unsure if that was by choice after the talking to Logan gave him.

"How long till she wakes up?" Scott ignored her jib.

"I knocked her out for several hours," Cecilia informed him.

"How'd you do that?" Bobby asked from where he and Kitty were sitting off to the side. "Did you gas her?"

"Adamantium tipped needles," she informed him, glancing over at Logan, "expensive but they come in handy. It's the only metal known to be able to break invulnerable-classified non-metamorphic skin."

"Did she suffer any damage?" Storm was standing closest to the window. She did what she had to stop Aurora. The troubled mutant discovered one of the reasons the name Ororo is synonymous with Goddess in some parts of the world.

"No," Cecilia shook her head, "the impact with the ground was enough to knock her out but since her invulnerability is a product of her super strength, which in turn is due to the makeup of her skeletal structure, muscle fibers, skin tissue, etc, you'd need the blast pressure wave of a twenty kiloton bomb before we'd start to see any real internal damage form."

"Twenty kiloton?" Scott questioned with a raise of his brow.

"Or there abouts," the doctor shrugged in a general exaggeration, "every super-strength mutant is different and it would take testing to be able to mathematically predict torque, tension and lift ratios." Cecilia frowned and glanced back at the woman, "Though I think someone took a more hands on approach to figuring all that out."

"Oh?" everyone's eyes turned to Cecilia.

"I was able to get some proper x-rays," she paused, picking her words, "and it looks like Jeanne-Marie has had three major bones broken in the past, I'd say, three, maybe two, years, and a slew of minor ones. Like I said, she might as well have steel bones, but whatever they did to cause hers to break, I don't even want to think about it."

"I told you," Logan spoke with a tinge of a growl, "they break you, it's what they do."

…

There was a nice solid crunch and the lock popped, the door swinging wide. Light filtered into the room and reflected off the dust they had disturbed, the area almost glittering. The four figures walked slowly into the living room which was empty save for a few pieces of furniture which were covered with sheets.

"Do we have electricity?" Pyro asked as he played with the light switch.

"No," Rogue rattled through the memories she saved, "no utilities. Celso found the deed to this place in his mother's stuff after she died. It's bought and paid for, no bills, property taxes are paid out of a trust. He's been trying to figure out what to do with it once he realized it belonged to his grandfather who was going by the name of Perry when he lived here, not Kaminski or Fuchs," she pulled a flashlight from her pocket. "It was looking into this place that lead him to the name Fuchs though he still doesn't realize they are the same man."

"For a lowly lab tech," Dom mused as the group fanned out in a general perusal of the building, "he went through a lot of trouble. What was he hiding from?"

"_Who_ was he hiding from is the more likely scenario," Pyro corrected.

"Doesn't matter," Quicksilver shut the door behind them, "we only want what he could have hidden. Pyro, do the honors?"

The team went quiet as Pyro started walking forward, slowly glancing around the room, tapping his toes against the floorboards. He shook his head lightly and kept walking, stopping to turn towards a bookcase only to shake his head, "No, easy access."

Rogue looked over at Dom and they both shrugged, knowing the man tended to mumble during his walkthroughs.

Pyro snapped his fingers, "There's got to be a basement."

Dashing down a hall way, using his lighter as a light source, Pyro eventually found the door leading to the basement, taking the stairs three at a time. The team followed a bit more reservedly with flashlights in their hand.

"Hah," he shouted out, "perfect."

When they got the bottom, there was a concrete floor complete with a thin layer of dirt from years of being left untouched… and nothing else. A shelf was empty of even random goods such as glass jars full of nuts and bolts. A wooden work bench, just as encrusted in dust, was off to the side but not quite up against the wall.

"Pyro?" Quicksilver questioned.

"Look," the Aussie got down on his knees next to the table seemingly okay with the amount of dirt that rubbed into his clothing as he wiped at the floor, "there is a crease in the concrete."

"Yeah?" the leader was not impressed, "they probably laid the floor in sections."

"Ah, but this is a perfect rectangle," he slid around the side of one of the legs, clearing out the cut in the concrete with his finger, "it's hidden by the table, your eyes get distracted off of it."

Once he pointed it out, Rogue could see the rest of the lines, "He's right."

"Dom," Quicksilver gestured to the floor and Avalanche stepped forward and kneeled, placing his palm on the concrete.

"There's something down there," he spoke after a moment and the ground began to lightly shake.

Pyro hopped up and pushed at the work bench, Rogue and Quicksilver joining him to get to out of the way quickly. The floor cracked, chunks of concrete being pushed up and tumbling to the side. Earth followed next, moist, almost like peat moss.

Then up came a long metal box, military style with two locks and faded German lettering.

"Lead us straight to it," shaking his head, Dom look up at his friend, "never ceases to amaze me how you can do that."

Pyro shrugged like it was no big deal, "Fuchs went through a lot of trouble to hide himself and if he didn't take the notes with him then he obviously didn't them need within easy grasp."

"So immediately you thought, basement," Rogue said wryly, knowing how his mind worked.

"Anything else wouldn't have made sense in the narrative," he replied blankly.

"Let's get this opened," Pietro grabbed the metal handle of the box and Avalanche took the other, hauling it up onto the table.

Touching the edges of the locks, the Greek caused the metal to crumble into dust. The lid was tight against the seals, a vacuum having formed inside. With a grunt, Dom was able to pop the lid, the four of them peering over the sides.

"Yep," Pyro piped up, "looks like papers to me."

Rogue rolled her eyes as she and Quicksilver both reached into the box, "Careful," he told her, "these files have to be at least seventy years old."

"Well preserved," she commented, the paper yellowing but not quite brittle, "the air tight seal meant no moisture got in and it was kept cool."

"I wonder if that was intentional," Pyro asked and Dom shrugged.

"These look like patient files," Rogue recognized a few words in German as she flipped through one of the notebooks, faded images of doomed patients sliding about, making her sick to her stomach.

"So," Pyro sobered up, "he did have Mengele's stuff."

"Yeah," Pietro was glancing through a file.

"Wait," Rogue didn't know a lot of German, but she had German speakers in her head and while it wasn't exactly like having an interpreter on hand, they did point out the meanings to some of the words, such as 'Behandelnden Arzt', "look at the signatures on these files, under Attending Physician, that doesn't read like Mengele to me."

She held one of the files off to the side so Pyro could look to where she was pointing, "That's definitely an E… and what are those? N's? No, that wouldn't make any sense. S. Ess… Essex."

Little voices sounded in her head but she couldn't figure out what they were saying.

"That's English, not German," Dom pointed out that the word was more of a typical English surname.

"I burned down a pub in Chelmsford, Essex, once," Pyro smiled fondly at the memory.

"I know," Dom frowned at him, thumping him in the shoulder, "I was this close to making it withthat blonde who was all legs, some wingman you turned out to be."

"Two words," he held up two fingers, "flaming Sambuca."

"Even if they aren't Mengele's," Quicksilver broke into the conversation and hurriedly, even for him, gestured for Rogue to put the files back into the box, "Magneto may find a use for them. Let's get going before someone calls to report a break-in."

"Right," the whole situation was rather curious but she was glad these weren't Mengele's papers, at least she didn't have to consider what she'd do if they contained the secret to control. The devil would just have to wait for another day to tempt her…

…

Cecilia was going through some of the medical cabinets, looking at what the school had and needed to restock. What they really needed was a full time doctor at the school and while the offer had been given to her, she felt she did more good working in the clinic, helping anyone and everyone who needed it, human and mutant alike.

A soft moan got her attention and she turned to see Jeanne-Marie, or whoever she thought she was, stir softly.

Walking over to her, Cecilia got out her light to check the woman's eyes to make sure there wasn't any kind of concussion or other damage as result of the fight. Sure, Jeanne-Marie was invulnerable but that was no reason not to make sure a lucky strike didn't cause brain injury.

Aurora, must have been Aurora, reached up and violently grabbed Cecilia's arm while her other hand went for the first thing she could find, the railing of the bed. Ripping up the railing she brought it over to bash Cecilia but it simply dinged off of the psioplasmic bio-field Cecilia was able to form around herself as part of her mutation.

"Are you quite finished?" Cecilia admonished her, "Because if you are I'd like to make sure you've had no adverse effects from the fall or the drugs I gave you," and she added a tad on the snarky side, "if that's okay with you?"

Working her jaw and attempting to save face, Aurora said, "Whatevers, Doc."

"Split personality or no, I've worked an ER in the Bronx," she said as she examined Aurora's pupils which dilated correctly, "your little tough-girl act is a bit of a joke if you ask me."

"Little tough-girl act?" Aurora got offended, "I could break you in two."

"Like I haven't heard that a few million times," she grabbed a blood pressure monitor and began to wrap it around the woman's arm, "are you going to say something about capping me next, or my favorite, threaten to turn me into chunky salsa? Breath regularly for a minute."

Aurora was way too bewildered to give Cecilia any trouble as she filled up the wrap to pressure and then checked her pulse rate.

"Looks good," she declared as she removed the wrap, "your invulnerability protects you from most injuries but one can never be too sure. Better safe than sorry."

With that done, Cecilia moved off to write the information down on a chart to put in the woman's medical file which included the results of the x-rays. Aurora still seemed to be stunned in place so Cecilia decided to push things a bit.

"My compliments to the doctor who set your bones," she walked over to the light board and gestured to the x-rays which showed unusually dense muscle and bone, "quite nicely done, though I imagine your own muscles helped keep them from getting to far out of place."

Glancing back at Aurora, a strange look passed across the woman's face, one Cecilia had seen many times in victims of severe trauma. It was that of wishing they could forget. After a moment, the woman sat up and started to pull the monitor pads from her body, "Yeah, well, no one but the best moved up into the advanced programs."

"And that's why Jean-Paul was left behind," Cecilia said conversationally while she moved to turn off the now squealing equipment which had nothing to monitor, "because while his muscle tissue is like yours, making him invulnerable, his bones aren't nearly as strong or dense, trying to use his muscles for super strength would snap them in two."

"As I said," the woman crossed her arms and looked pointedly at Cecilia, "only the best."

"Yes," Cecilia said thoughtfully, "but Jean-Paul's metabolism, now that's a work of art, very efficient in how it consumes and distributes energy, so efficient he never gets tired which is why he can run so fast. As a doctor it certainly makes me curious… I'm surprised he wasn't at least considered for the advanced programs, Class Four or no."

Aurora stared at her with a blank yet harsh expression, her jaw tight.

"Unless, of course," Cecilia shrugged, "someone was protecting him?"

"Go back to stitching up bullet wounds the Bronx, chica," Aurora gave her a snarled look, "cause you don't know a damn thing about anything else."

Raising a single eyebrow in doubt, Cecilia was about to comment when Charles and Jean entered the room, the former saying, "Aurora, how are you feeling?"

"Brilliant, thanks," she said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes and turned to the man.

"I understand that you are now… in charge, as it where?" he said cautiously as he came to a stop just inside the room, Jean standing to his side.

"What did I tell you about staying out of it?" Aurora put her hands on her hips and glared at the man, "but you know what, nevermind. Marie was a weak, simple, little girl who doesn't deserve to have any fun because she doesn't even know the meaning of the word."

"Is that what this is about," Jean questioned, "having fun?"

"More like actually living your life," the dark haired woman shot back snidely, "Marie was just too boring, couldn't even come up with an exciting memory she is _so_ vanilla."

"You realize Marie is one side of the same coin," Charles tried, his tone neutral, "and you are the other. I've been told that _Jeanne_-Marie was quite a fun and spirited woman."

"One who was constantly held back," her words were full of spite, spreading her arms wide, "but I don't have that problem anymore."

"No, you don't," another voice joined the conversation and Cecilia saw Jean-Paul enter the room, mentally she started to count down till things would start to get broken.

"Aw, poor little Jean-Paul," Aurora baited, "guess you'll just have to get used to your do-what-you-say sister being all gone."

"I guess I will," he said evenly, staring at her with a stern jaw that she began to mimic when she realized he wasn't rising to the bait, "what is it that _you_ want Aurora?"

"What do I want?" she repeated back and a little touch of uncertainty seemed to worm their way into her voice.

"You're a big girl," he gave the minutest of shrugs, "you don't have to answer to me, or anyone, so what do you want?"

She thought about this for a second, then spoke almost like a petulant teenager, "What if I want to leave this daycare?"

Jean Paul was quiet for a long moment, the room going into a very awkward silence that Cecilia was tempted to break, but he finally said, "Okay."

Aurora didn't bother to hide the confusion on her face, "Okay?"

"Okay," he repeated, his face as solid as stone, jaw clenched. There was something in the way he said the word that told the doctor that there was a context she was missing… a conversation that perhaps had already taken place.

"Okay," this time she was more flippant, walking forward cautiously between the Professor and Jean-Paul, the siblings never breaking eye contact. With one last moment passing between them, the woman swiftly walked away, going through the outer room and out the door.

Once she was gone, JP slumped, Jean walking next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Want, no," he shook his head sadly, "have to," he sighed, "I can't force her better, I'll only make things more worse than I already have," pulling away, he headed out of the medical room leaving the three of them in silence.

…

With a backpack full of what few essentials she needed, Aurora looked around her room, correction, Marie's room, and her eyes fell on a framed picture on the dresser. Heading over, she picked it up and examined the contents.

Marie and Jean-Paul, when they came to the mansion after Jean-Paul had 'rescued her'.

She didn't need rescuing. She was Aurora, she was stronger than all this, she had been through hell and back and she didn't need her guilt-tripped twin to tell her otherwise.

Bollocks to him, she didn't need his mothering or his help. She didn't need Marie either. She was perfectly capable of being her own person.

Tears started to trace down her cheek and she idly brushed them away, unsure where they had come from.

With a frustrated growl she slammed the frame down and headed to the window, forcing it open so she could step up on the sill. Barely a glance back, she jumped and flew up into the air, leaving nothing behind but a broken picture in her wake.

* * *

**1X05 – Second Star to the Right – Tag**

Jean Paul sat on one of the brick walls which divided different parts of the property, staring up at the night sky, the North Star brightly visible against the backdrop. The next thing he saw was a bottle of beer shoved unceremoniously into his face.

"Thanks, Logan," JP took the Canadian brew and popped off the lid as the short mutant sat down next to him on the wall.

"It's only been a couple of days," Logan pointed out, sipping on his own beer.

"I know," he took a long draft of the cool liquid.

When JP didn't say anything further, the other man asked, "Second guessing yourself?"

Dropping his head, the younger mutant sighed, "You were right, if we made her stay she would have caused havoc just to get at me. She blames me for what happened to her, and I can't say I disagree with her."

"_Part_ of her blames you," he corrected, "and don't forget that."

"Doesn't mean that part of her is wrong," JP shook his head and took another swig of beer.

"Listen, bub," the Wolverine said gruffly, "I've been in her place, been pushed to limits no human or mutant rightly should. It's the kind of thing you want to forget, any way possible," he took a quick swig of beer, "and sometimes what you grab onto to stay afloat, well, it's all you got."

Jean-Paul considered the other man's words carefully, glancing over at him, "I never asked how you lost your memories."

"I lost them," he said with a shrug, "thing is, the mind is like a barrel of monkeys, you can't just pick up one memory and toss it away, a dozen go out with it"

The man was being uncharacteristically open with him and JP just didn't know how to respond.

Logan chugged his booze then continued, "As for your sister, Aurora is just one piece of Jeanne-Marie, one piece, but a person is like a machine, needs all the cogs and wheels to function right. You can't mill flour without a bedstone, a runner stone, a water wheel, a hopper and shoe, and of course wheat."

He starred at the older man, "Just how old are you?"

"Old enough," he gruffed and the conversation fell silence.

Time passed and the two Canadians sat, starring up at the stars. Eventually JP had to ask, "Think there's hope? That I'll get my sister back?"

"Don't know what to tell you, kid," Logan finished off his beer, "there's always hope, but be prepared for disappointment."

"Yeah," he took another sip of his beer and continued to stare at the North Star…

…

Quicksilver dropped the large plastic storage box onto the table between the two men, popping off the lid, the smell of old paper wafting through the warehouse.

"This all of it?" Magneto asked as he picked up one of the files, idly glancing through it while Courier stood patiently to the side to take the box to its intended location.

"Every file Fuchs hid," Pietro nodded at the man, pulling a USB drive from his pocket, "I've had each one scanned, maybe we can figure out what's so important in them. Use it against him."

"I think it's more that he gave us the menial task of procuring the files," Magneto tossed the folder back into the box with disgust, "than there actually being anything of importance in them."

"Right," the quick footed mutant frowned, putting the lid back onto the box.

"Courier," Magneto gestured to the man who took a sheet of paper from his portfolio, a peel and stick label, and pressed it against the top.

Taking out his PDA he scanned the barcode, punched a few buttons, then tucked it back into his shirt, "This will be overnighted, he'll have it by lunchtime tomorrow."

"No rush," the Brotherhood leader said blandly.

Courier ignored Magneto's tone and went to pick up the box when shouts came in the direction of the far side of the room. Turning their heads to look, one of Magneto's guards, a leather skinned mutant, came flying across the room, hitting a pillar and falling to the ground.

A woman, tall with deep black hair, came walking into the room, dragging another guard in her hand. She stopped several feet from the men, letting the guard drop to the ground passed out, "You the one called Magneto, leader of the Brotherhood?"

Two large pieces of metal came from nowhere and wrapped themselves around the intruder, pinning her in place. She tried to leap up into flight or pull the metal apart but Magneto's telepathic control over magnetism proved too much for her.

"I am Magneto," the look on his face was one of curiosity, after all, they were in a warehouse made of metal. A person would have to be stupid to attempt a one-on-one attack here as he just proved.

"Good," she then paused for a second, seemingly thinking over her next words, "where do I sign up?"

Magneto and Quicksilver exchanged glances, the latter asking, "Aren't you Jean-Paul Beaubier's sister?"

"So," she did her best to look indignant.

"He's an X-Man," Pietro countered.

"That's his problem," the woman said wryly.

"Well," Magneto gave a short chuckle, "indeed it is."

* * *

_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**_

* * *

**On the next episode of **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series…**_

_—"They're not weapons, they're people." – Duncan_  
_"So is a suicide bomber," - Val_

_—"Mystique struck again." – Scott_

_—"There is no 'official' record of a 'Colonel Trask', but in conjunction with his name we did find reference to a group called Humanity's Last Stand." – Kitty_

_—"Mystique going after Nimrod or is that our job?" – Avalanche_

_—"Bobby and I can pose as potential new members and find out where the HLS's main base is." – Kitty_

_—"We must embrace our differences, we must protect those differences. Only then may we know peace." – William_

_—"If the Brotherhood shows up then our goal is to keep them from getting to the cargo and letting the trucks escape." – Scott_

_— Kitty was face to face with a blue skinned woman with red hair and yellow eyes… Mystique._

_**Episode 1X06 – The Trask at Hand**_

* * *

**1X05 – Second Star to the Right**

Written by JayCee

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

Executive Producer – JayCee  
Co-Producer – Chellerbelle  
Script Consultant – ginchy

Shooting Location: American Museum of Natural History, New York

This is an unofficial fan site. It is not sponsored, licensed, or approved by Marvel Characters, Inc, Marvel Studios, Marvel Entertainment, 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, Fox Broadcasting Company, Ford Motor Company, or any other entities which may receive direction mention.

"X-Men" is a registered trademark of Marvel Characters, Inc.

All original content Copyright © 2012-2013 JayCee and xmenthefanficseries DOT com.  
All trademarks are properties of their respective owners.


	8. 1X06 - The Trask at Hand

_**And we're back! We'll have another hiataus over the winter break, but you have several episodes to look forward to until then which will include the introduction of characters like Gambit, Boom Boom, Scarlet Witch, and of course, Carol Danvers!**_

_**Thanks again for reading!**_

* * *

_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series  
**_**Episode #: **1X06  
**Title: **The Trask at Hand

**Summary:** The X-Men are tasked with protecting Sentinel and Nimrod when Mystique makes herself known. Bobby and Kitty go to a local meeting of a group with ties to the mysterious Colonel Trask.  
Rated TV-14 for intense action/violence.

* * *

**Previously… on **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**_

—"_The Professor does not want you going into any fights until you're a legal adult, that's what you agreed to." – Scott_

—"_He'll be expecting your call." – Scott_

—"_It's a tentative yes, as long as you promise not to take any unnecessary risks until you've had some proper self defense training." – Xavier_

—"_We've got Duncan on the inside now." – Scott_

—"_Bobby nearly died!" – Scott_

—"_Regardless of biology and semantics, both are threats to the security and safety of this country… and I'll do anything in my power to stop them." – Val Cooper_

* * *

**1X06 – The Trask at Hand – Teaser**

The detective stood over a body, skin gone pale and clammy except the massive discoloration around the neck.

"Quick and painless," the M.E. pointed to the bruised area, "someone knew exactly what they were doing, wrapped their arm around his neck and literally popped his head off its socket."

"Ouch," he said dryly. "I take we're looking for someone with a lot of strength?"

"Definitely taller than the victim, though he's about six-two, that should narrow it down," the man said, pulling the blanket back over the body as it laid on the slab, "probably a man, but a strong woman or one who had the right leverage and torque could have done it."

"Could it been accidental in any way?" his phone started to ring and he slid it out of his pocket.

"No," the coroner shook his head as if he was only ninety percent sure, "but… this is too clean, no defensive wounds, didn't even grab for the attacker, almost says professional to me."

"One sec," the detective spoke into the phone before turning back to the coroner, "thanks man, send me a copy of the report when you're done."

"As always," the M.E. gave him a mock salute and started to push the body into the freezer.

"Yeah, go," the detective nodded as he listened to his partner on the other end, "I'll be right there."

Minutes later, the detective walked in the A.V. room of the police station. "You said you had something?"

"Surveillance from the motel," the other detective was sipping on a cup of coffee, tapping at the keyboard, "doesn't cover his room but we have a clear image of the parking lot."

They watched as the victim's car parked at the motel. The camera feed was decent, the detective's could even make out his Virginia license plate. The dead man walking got out of the driver's seat as a lady in a cocktail dress with long blonde hair exited the other side. He came around the front of the car and she leaned into his arm as they headed out of camera range, assumedly going to his room.

"Interesting," this opened a whole lot of options.

"Get's more interesting," his partner tapped the keys and sped it up, "not but five minutes later…"

The woman in the black dress came back into view, straightening her dress as she walked down the sidewalk, past the man's car, and out of view, presumably going to the street.

"That kinda tracks," the detective said, "there were no unidentified prints in the car or the room. The vic had his coat off, tie half undone…" he trailed off as he started putting more together, "no sexual activity, money and cards weren't taken. It's a professional hit."

"A professional hit that _looks_ like a professional hit," the other man frowned, "you only do that if you have a message you want to send. This guy is some middle class computer tech, no ties to anyone important or famous. Find anything on his financials?"

"Nope," he shook his head, "steady paycheck from M-TAM, steady bills," then it clicked, "and anyway there's no way this woman killed him. The coroner said the killer had to be taller than the vic, so unless she got up on a chair or something…"

"Maybe she's a go between? No," he answered his own question, "everything points to the vic picking the motel and she's gone within five minutes. It seems awfully complicated, unless the coroner was wrong about the time of death."

"Autopsy confirms his initial findings," the detective leaned back in his chair, "the man was dead upon entering that room, give or take a few minutes. I suppose it could work if they were followed… but again, motive, method… what kind of message where they sending?"

"We're just missing a piece of the puzzle is all," his partner gave him a slap on the back, "so, you want to be the one to go through the man's home again or do you want to canvas the cabs, see if anyone picked up our femme fatale?"

He thought for a second, "I'll take the cabs, I could use the exercise."

"Good exercise that," the two men turned their heads to see an older gentleman in a suit walk in, flanked by another man in a polo with a gun and shield on his belt, "but a complete waste of time."

"And you are?" the detective asked.

The suited man pulled a badge holder from his breast pocket, "Special Agent Fred Duncan, FBI."

He gave the ID a good once over, "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"Trust me, detective," he slipped the badge back into his jacket, "I'm doing you a favor. You'd reach more dead ends than you'd know what to do with on this case."

"Nice backhanded insult there," he shook his head in disgust and turned to the man in the polo, "Captain?"

"Out of my hands," the police captain said gruffly, "the commissioner said just let them have it."

He kept shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it, sure, they were stuck for motive but once they got more leads they would be able to figure it out. His partner was a little more gracious, or at least fishing, "The woman, she a professional hitman?"

The agent gave a little frown, "In a manner of speaking."

…

"Alright," the M.E. sighed after finishing his read through of the paper work. "I'll get him wrapped up for take out."

"Thank you," she said evenly and gestured to the two men with her, they followed the coroner farther into the morgue to help in retrieving the body and any evidence.

Homeland Security Assistant Director Valerie Cooper checked her phone which showed several messages and emails. She was just sending a reply when Agent Duncan came walking down the hallway.

"I almost felt like a bully," he frowned, shuffling the papers in his hands which included a CD.

"Summers strong armed you onto the team," she mumbled, typing up another quick email, "probably thinks we do nothing but sit around thinking about how to best ruin his day when a lot of our job is simply damage control, cleaning up after their messes," she glanced up, "it was Raven Darkholme, correct?"

"Used her known blonde form," he showed her a photo from the top of the file, "and she had to know the camera was there, strutted right in front of it."

Val sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "All of the scientists and techs on that team were given thorough safety briefings which included not going to hotels with women, or men, they only just met."

"How did she even know he was working on the Sentinel project?" he said quietly, well aware of not wanting to be eavesdropped on.

"I already have a team looking into that," she said wryly, "but regardless, we have to assume she knows at least some of the others on the Sentinel team. Now the project is going to have to move operations again, replacing pretty much the whole team."

"It's going to delay the program," he didn't sound all broken up about it.

"And give them a chance to steal the Nimrod lattice again," she shook her head.

"They ever get that thing fixed?" Duncan asked easily.

"Nice try," she gave him a sarcastic smile.

"Oh well," he gave an unabashed shrug, "worth a shot."

* * *

**1X06 – The Trask at Hand – Act I**

Fred was sitting at his desk in what was a small hole of an office at one of the Homeland Security buildings that Cooper and the council had moved into after the events with the Brotherhood Acolytes. He was typing away at his laptop when Val poked her head through the door. "Find anything?"

"No," he sighed, glancing up at her, "and I know I'm looking for a shape shifter. Cab companies, security cameras… nothing, no leads. She wanted us to know she was there but didn't want to get caught, can't imagine why."

"She wants Trask to move Sentinel," Val agreed to his unspoken assessment.

"But if we don't," he leaned back in his chair, "she or the Acolytes, or Magneto himself, will work their way to it, they did it before."

"At least this way, it'll be on our terms," Val said dryly, "and I don't intend to get caught out like last time."

"Last time?" he played dumb just to see the sour look on her face.

"The Acolytes made fools of us," she said bitterly, then she got a glint in her eye, "but I'm taking it as a lesson learned."

"Oh?"

"Call up your X-Men friends," Val gave him a conspiratorial smile, "odds are they're going to stick their noses into this anyway, Sentinel's too dangerous to them not to get involved."

"They gave Nimrod back," Fred pointed out.

"After they broke it," she returned wryly.

"To keep Magneto from getting it," he frowned.

"So they say," she wasn't entirely convinced, "but regardless, I want them where I can see them," she crossed her arms and left no room to debate, "if they want to 'be the better person', then they can prove it."

Fred considered her for a second, then he gave her a scoffing laugh, "And it's a move the Acolytes won't see coming, us actually working together."

"Got it in one," she grinned, then gestured to his phone that was lying out on the desk. "Trask wants the Council's help in moving Sentinel. We move it in two days, Thursday to be exact," she almost laughed, "I know it's a school day but they better be ready."

"They're not stupid," he wanted to shake his head at her, "even if I don't tell them, they'll know there's nothing altruistic about this, that you're using them."

"I'm not trying to hide it," she shrugged, then sighed, "I know, they claim to be the good guys, but they're just as capable as doing untold damage if left unchecked. Now, I've seen our government give weapons to the 'good guys' to fight other 'bad guys'," she exaggerated the words, "then only a decade or so down the line find those weapons turned back on us. I'm not making that mistake here, especially since mutants are weapons."

"They're not weapons," Fred said sternly, sitting up straight in his chair to look her dead in the eye, "they're people."

"So is a suicide bomber," she replied coldly, leaning forward, "only when a mutant blows up, odds are it can walk away and do it again."

…

"Agent Cooper is being very amicable," Scott said wryly to Fred over the phone as he walked down the hall of the school.

"You suspicious?" the agent asked.

"Be lying if I said no," he lifted his glasses just enough so he could rub his eyes and pinch his nose. "She wants us where she can see us, right?"

"That's the gist of it," Fred said wryly. "I'll get you're the details closer to time, you understand."

"Of course," he nodded reflexively as he turned a corner.

"I have to go," the older man said distractedly, "we'll be in touch."

"Thank you, Fred," he finally said, "keep me appraised," and with that the other man hung up.

Slightly frowning, running through all the possibilities, he followed the sound of power tools and headed into the garage. Bobby's black Ford _Escape_ was lined up next to Jean's green Ford _Focus_ and Ororo's white Ford _Fusion_.

At the end of the long garage was the workshop. The school had to be very self-sufficient, a lot of the renovations were done by themselves except where required by law to have a licensed electrician or welder, safety considerations and all that.

Logan was leaning over a door which was laid across two saw-horses. He had a jigsaw in his hand and was cutting a square out of the bottom. Several other doors were leaned up against each other off to the side in two piles.

"Wondered where my classroom door went," he said dryly as Logan blew the dust away and got a hand sander to work off the edges.

"It's for that shape shifting cat," he sanded off edges for the brackets to fit as he was effectively putting in 'doggie doors'.

"Right," Scott nodded, "she got trapped in the science lab and then changed back into a human, had to cover herself with the Table of Elements."

"Yeah, Chuck thought this was a good idea," Logan shrugged and picked up a drill and some screws, "and besides, she ain't the first shape shifter and won't be the last."

"Speaking of which," he frowned, thinking of his recent phone conversation, "Mystique struck again."

There was a notable pause as the feral mutant drilled the metal brackets into place.

"Virginia," Scot continued, "a computer scientist who was working on Sentinel. Didn't try to interrogate him, Rogue was seen with the Brotherhood in Switzerland so no absorption, just straight up killed him and made little effort to hide it," Scott shook his head, "The whole Sentinel project is going to have to be moved and re-staffed. Fred seems to think that was the point, a way of freeing up Nimrod so Mystique or the Brotherhood could steal it again."

"The government never should have gotten Nimrod back," Logan gruffed, attaching the swing door.

"Let's not rehash that, okay," Scott sighed. "I'm telling you this because you've had the most experience with Mystique. I wanted to know what you made of the situation."

Logan paused, hands gripping the sides of the door, taking a few breaths, "Woman only has one motive: what's best for her. Right now, apparently working for Magneto is in her own best interests. Until it stops being in her best interest, she's letting him call the shots. So I'd be looking less at her and more at Magneto. What does bucket head get out of it?"

Scott nodded, considering his words, "Thank you, that was actually very informative."

The man gave a non-committal grunt and went back to installing the doggy door. With a shake of his head, Scott turned to leave but almost ran into Kitty.

"There you are," she frowned at him, "you didn't answer your phone."

"Oh, sorry," he remembered declining her call, "I was on with Fred, what did you need?"

"Doug and I were looking into that Trask fellow," she told him, "we found something interesting."

…

Scott followed Kitty into the conference room with Logan at his heels. Doug tapped away at his computer and the rest of the team also made their way in, except the Professor who was on a conference call in his office.

"So, yeah," Kitty started, moving over to the display, "there is no 'official' record of a 'Colonel Trask'. But unofficially, i.e., in documents 'not available to the public'," she was using a fair amount of finger quotes, "there is mention of him in some reports but there is no actual profile or service record we've found."

"Yet," Doug added without looking up from the laptop.

"Yet," Kitty conceded, pointing to the screen where a logo with the letters HLS appeared, "but in conjunction with his name we did find reference to a group called Humanity's Last Stand."

"I've heard of them," Jean spoke up, "they're a known hate group," everyone looked at her. "Last year the Professor and I put together a list of groups that, should mutants become known, might threaten or harm the school."

"First we've heard of this," Scott frowned at her.

"It's just a list," she shrugged. "Anyway, they're a 'racial purity' kind of group. They claim not to be racist, they simply believe different races shouldn't intermix or 'muddy the waters'."

"How is that not racist?" Bobby asked dryly.

"If I remember correctly," she creased her brow in thought, "they claim that 'the farther away we move from that which makes us different, we destroy that which makes us unique'."

"Rhetorically," JP mused, "that makes some sense…" all heads now turned to him, "rhetorically. In this context though it sounds like a bunch of racist s—"

"Well," Jean cleared her throat, "the group does not condone any kind of mix-breeding, they've called inter-racial marriages abhorrent, could even be behind some murders though nothing has stuck. We put them on the list, as much as we're having difficulty defining if mutants do constitute a separate race or species as Magneto claims, I'm sure they'd have issue with us regardless."

Scott chewed on that for a moment then moved on, "What does this group have to do with the Colonel?"

"Liability," Kitty filled in, "Colonel Trask has a connection to the group which his superiors believe could undermine Trask's credibility should any of his projects move beyond Black Ops into the public domain."

Bobby raised his hand to get everyone's attention, "He's building a machine that will hunt down mutants," he lowered his hand and shrugged his arms widely, "now, I can put two and two together and it still equals racists douchebag."

There was a snicker from half the people in the room, but Ororo explained, "It's all about perception. It is one thing to be told Sentinel is necessary for their safety, a whole other to see it as a tool of segregation or repression. The populace as a whole will be much more forgiving of one than the other."

"Oh," it dawned on the accountant, "ah, right."

"Do we know what the connection is?" Scott asked, steering the conversation back to the task at hand.

"Well, the group's leader is a man named Simon Trask," Kitty grinned as she brought up another image, this time of an older man, late 50s, "think that's connection enough?"

"A start," he returned dryly, "is this our Colonel Trask?"

Now the girl frowned, "There's no mention of the Colonel's full name in what records we could find, but no, I don't think so. Doing a background check there is no sign of Simon Trask ever joining the military, but," she brought up a picture of a young man who shared much of the same facial features, the picture looking to be old, like from the 70s, "his brother, Bolivar, drops off the map at age eighteen."

"You're thinking he joined the military," JP was the first to voice the connection, "and once he got into Black Ops his record was erased?"

"Working theory," she nodded.

"Still doesn't give us much to work with," Scott let out a long breath as he thought it over, "but it's a start. We could go to their base of operations, have a look around."

"Yeah, their main base," Kitty frowned, "we couldn't find it, they're being really smart about covering their tracks at the upper levels."

"Keep looking into it then," he told the girl, then while he had the group together, "for now, I got a call earlier, from Agent Duncan, Mystique killed one of the high-level Sentinel computer techs and now the whole program is going to be moved again."

"They'll be ripe picking for the Brotherhood," JP pointed out.

"We can't let them get their hands on Nimrod or any part of Sentinel," Jean added.

"And they won't," Scott assured them, "Duncan has asked us to help with security on the move."

"We're going to help them protect something meant to hunt us?" Logan snorted his disgust.

"Would you rather Magneto used it to build an army?" Jean shot back coolly.

"I'd rather let Pop Rocks have a go at it," Logan crossed his arms.

"Hey, that's my line!" Bobby pouted.

"We will not prove the government's point for them," Scott said firmly. "I know I'm repeating myself here, but we will not stoop to the Brotherhood's level."

…

"Gimme the remote!" Rogue was sitting next to Pyro on the sofa in front of the television, she was attempting to snatch the offending item from him but he held it out of her reach, his arm on her shoulder, holding her back. "Don't make me break your arm."

"I wanna watch _Sleepy Hollow_!" he kept her out of reach.

"It's a rerun," she pulled back a bit, shaking one of her gloves off, "and maybe you shouldn't have broke your tv after watching _Arrow_."

"But, eh, da, it was so," the Aussie got frustrated, clenching his hands against his temples, "logistics, people, it's not an option, things have to take place in a believable timeline, oh, and you can't just throw a bunch of pretty faces at the screen and expect no one to notice you have no concept of chara—"

Pyro slumped back, passed out, his head lulling to the side.

"Yoink," Rogue snatched the remote out of his grasp with her gloved hand, then slipped her other glove back on.

Dom walked up behind the sofa, "Did you knock Pyro out so you could take the remote?"

"Yes I did," she didn't even stutter, getting comfortable and pointing the remote at the tv, then frowned, "damn, now I want to watch _Sleepy Hollow_."

The bigger man chuckled and headed over to the kitchen, "That is your own fault."

"Yeah, yeah," she tossed the remote down, "I was hoping I'd just get his silly accent for awhile, I only grazed him."

He continued to laugh and reached into the fridge, "Beer?"

"Yes, please," she stood and moved past the unconscious Aussie to join her teammate. "Ugh, crazy Aussie, I never drink at lunchtime."

Dom was about to respond but there was a brush of wind, Quicksilver suddenly standing in front of the sofa, "Py-Rogue," he turned to them, "did you knock out Pyro again?"

"He wouldn't give me the remote," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The team leader sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "How long will he be out?"

"Not long," Rogue thought it over, "a couple of minutes."

"Fine," he shook his head, "I'll start with the second order of business first. The Sentinel project is on the move again, with Nimrod."

"Why is it on the move?" Rogue asked, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.

"Magneto was able to use the information you gathered while incarcerated to track down some of the core team members," he told her blankly and she didn't like where this was headed, "and the facility is too heavily guarded by the military since our stunt, so your mother took one of the scientists out. Since they can't know for sure how compromised the project is, the whole thing is being moved."

Dom asked the obvious, "Mystique going after Nimrod or is that our job?"

"Mystique has another job," Quicksilver answered, "I know we just got back from Switzerland but pack up and be ready to move out in a couple of hours, we have our own mission."

"The X-Men," Rogue spoke up, "they find out about Nimrod being moved and they'll be all over this."

"Probably," the team leader gritted his teeth a bit.

"Melbourne's on fire!" Pyro sat up and grabbed his head, groaning as if he had just woken up from a nap and not a mutation induced coma.

"Pyro," Quicksilver turned and snapped at him, waving his hand in front of his face, "you coherent?"

The pyromaniac held his finger up as he shook his head, blinked a few times, then looked up at the silver-haired Romanian, and apparently adopted a Spanish accent, "Sí, mon capitán."

"We're getting fluctuations in the energy grid," he ignored the Aussie's glib, "you know, the one that keeps Xavier from finding us. I want you to have a look at it before we go."

"We're going somewhere?" he looked between them as he scratched his head.

"I'll let them fill you in," and with that Quicksilver was gone.

Pyro looked over at Rogue and Dom, the latter saying, "Mystique assassinated a Sentinel tech, Nimrod's on the move."

"Right, okay," he didn't need to be told any more, he stood and stretched, "short nap but crazy dream."

Rogue shook her head as she got up, "You're the only person who ever claims to have dreams when I knock them out."

"This is true," Dom followed behind her, "I remember nothing, I am awake and then next thing I know it's some time later and I have a hangover I did not enjoy getting."

"Eh, what can I say?" Pyro grinned.

"What did you dream about this time?" Rogue asked out of curiosity.

"Well, it was the 80s," he scrunched his face up in thought, "and I had really poor fashion sense… even for the 80s."

…

"Those worksheets are due tomorrow," he told the class as they started to file out of the doorless classroom, "no excuses like you accidently lit it on fire or transported it to another dimension."

With a few giggles and a couple of groans, the kids departed and Scott was left to sort out the papers on his desk, putting away his notes for the day. He was just closing the top drawer when Kitty knocked on the doorframe and stepped inside.

"Got a second?" she asked.

"Sure, what's up?" he saw she had some folders in her hand.

"Remember when I told you this morning we didn't know where Humanity's Last Stand's main base of operations was?" she started off.

"Yeah," he nodded, "did you find something?"

"No, but, well," she started to act very timid, chewing on her lip, "I have an idea that might help us," she handed over the files.

Scott did a quick scan over them, it was a complete dossier on two names he didn't recognize, with everything from their social security number to their high school GPA. "Who are these people?"

"Me and Bobby," she grinned.

He stared at her blankly, "Excuse me?"

"Doug and I set up these profiles, they'll stand up under any background check short of the NSA," she gestured to the papers, "Bobby and I can pose as potential new members and find out where the HLS's main base is. Once we know, if we can get into their records, we might find something on Colonel Trask."

Scott let out an exasperated breath as he tried to understand what she was saying, "No."

"But—"

"These people are possibly very dangerous," he cut her off, "and I say possibly because we just don't know. I'm not sending you and Bobby into a situation like that, neither of you have enough experience yet to go it alone."

Kitty had her arms crossed and lips tight, she looked like she might yell but instead said, "In general though, you think it's a good idea."

That caused the man to pause, "It's a classic move, yes, law enforcement has been doing it for years."

"Exactly," she quickly pointed out, "and this way there's no fighting, no having to use our powers, and no chance for someone to get hurt. We go in, find what we need to know, cake."

"Fine," he conceded that it was a fairly decent plan, "me and Jean will go. She'll be able to read any information we need."

"And what if they make you take your glasses off?" she countered. "They might wonder why a guy is wearing sunglasses indoors, or at night."

He frowned at her, then sighed, "Then Jean-Paul."

"The HLS are just as much against homosexual marriage as inter-racial, and you know how JP can get sometimes," she sprayed her hands wide, "one wrong word and it's all over," then she held up her hand to keep him from saying his next words, "and before you suggest Logan, I think we both know that would be a _really_ bad idea."

Scott grimaced, "He doesn't do subtle, that's for sure."

"Your only choice then would be to send Jean alone, which I know you won't do, so you'll have to send Bobby," Kitty continued with a grin on her face, "but Jean and Bobby? I mean, it could work, but if you're already sending Bobby then send me with him. We'd totally look the part of 'impressionable young couple' and while Bobby keeps them busy I can break into any computers they have and sneak into places Jean couldn't."

"Kitty," he said sternly but worn down, "you're not eighteen yet."

"The Professor only said I couldn't go into a fight," she pointed out, waving her finger in the air, "this would be recon, not a fight."

The optic mutant went to speak, then paused before saying, "You really took the time to think this through, didn't you."

"Duh."

* * *

**1X06 – The Trask at Hand – Act II**

"We're going out tonight," Kitty stuck a folder in front of Bobby as he was attempting to eat his breakfast.

"That's odd," he frowned as he sat back, "that line never works when I use it."

"Ha ha," Kitty pulled out a chair, "there's a meeting tonight of the HLS," she sat down and stole the blueberry muffin he had sitting to the side for 'dessert', "and it's in Queens, so you need to memorize all that by 4:00, you're driving."

"To Queens?" he said absently and he reluctantly turned the pages of the file.

"Yep," she was a bit muffled by the muffin so she covered her mouth. "Since you're from Long Island anyway, I made most of your background match up so you wouldn't have to remember too much, same High School and everything."

"Did you make me the popular jock?" he asked as he turned the page.

"Please," she made a face at him, "we want them to believe us."

He narrowed his eyes at her and she just grinned at him. Eventually he gave up and went back to the file, "Can't believe you talked me into this… correction, can't believe you talked Scott into this. Are you sure you don't have a secondary mutation? Snake charmer?"

"Bobby, sweetie," Kitty made the sounds one does when talking to a child, "that would make you a snake," she gave him a pity look, "and then you would be Snakeman, not Iceman," she paused, "or Icey Snake Man… SnakeIce Man… Snake-Ice… that one has potential."

He glanced up at her and her big brown eyes, "Don't cats kill snakes?"

Her eyes drifted up as she thought about it, "Yes, yes they do."

Bobby shook his head and laughed, picking up the file again, he had some reading to do.

…

"So, what do we know?" Rogue stood with the Acolytes in an abandoned warehouse, leaning over a map.

"The American government is ran by five year olds who throw temper tantrums?" Pyro piped in.

"About Nimrod, yah nimrod," Rogue gave the grinning Aussie a dour look.

"They've been keeping everything pretty quiet," Quicksilver ignored them, "even some of our better inside sources have been cut off… but you don't move a project of this size without a few leaks."

Rogue turned back to the team leader, "We sure we can trust the information?"

"Not as much as I'd like," the man admitted, "but we'll know soon enough, they head out in the morning from the facility somewhere outside Roanoke, Virginia, to a new base in Ohio."

"Where in Ohio?" she asked.

"Not a clue," Quicksilver admitted, "but there are only so many ways they can get to Point A from Point B."

"They are going to be on guard, expecting an attack," Avalanche pointed out.

"Hasn't stopped us before," the pyromaniac grinned.

…

"Now, the value here is dependant—" Scott was cut off in mid-lecture as his phone rang. Normally he'd keep it turned off or silent but he was expecting a call. Slipping it out of his pocket he checked the name and hit accept, "One second," he said to the caller then looked up, "I have to take this, Jubilee," he got the young girl's attention, "make sure they do their worksheets."

"But I don't _want_ to be the responsible one!" the girl lamented as he exited into the hallway.

"Sorry, Fred," he told the man, "go ahead."

"I've sent a military courier with a sealed package to you," Fred told him blankly, "should be with you shortly. The package contains the date, time, and location of the move. Don't share this information with anyone and don't talk about it over the phone. We'll see you when we see you."

"Any word on the Brotherhood or Acolytes?" Scott knew there was no way they were going to pass this up.

"Magneto was spotted recently in South Korea, that caused a little bit of a stir," the Fed said wryly, "but otherwise no. Mystique, Sabretooth, the Acolytes, all could be anywhere in the world right now."

"Alright then," Scott sighed, they would just have to plan for everything, "thank you, Fred."

"Don't thank me yet," he gave a bit of a snort, "this is still the military's ball game, Cooper's group is simply providing backup. Don't expect a warm welcome or support."

Scott frowned, "Agent Cooper did inform them of our involvement?"

"Yes," Fred didn't sound very happy, "but as far as they are concerned, you're cannon fodder."

"Oh, great," there was a distinct amount of sarcasm in his voice.

"You should receive the package with the hour," the agent said, "I'll talk to you again later."

"Thanks Fred," and with that the man hung up and Scott headed back into the classroom.

Jubilee was sitting on the edge of his desk reading a teen magazine and blowing a bubble with her gum.

"What?" she said when he gave her a 'what in the world' look, "You told me to make sure _they_ did their worksheets, you said nothing about me."

…

"Now," Kitty fiddled with her purse as Bobby put the Ford _Escape_ into park and killed the engine, "you remember everything."

"Yes, _Marra_," he used her pseudonym, "I remember. Why did you pick Marra anyway?"

"It's short for Jandamarra," she opened her door and slid out, "the Queen in the House of Mavendore books."

"Right," he also exited and came around the back of the vehicle to join her, "and where did you get 'David'."

"The Tenth Doctor," she looped her arm with his and they started to walk towards the rented out building.

"Who?" Bobby asked, confused.

Kitty grinned and shushed him as they got to the entrance, Bobby holding the door for her as they went inside.

There was a small table with a sign-in book and several pamphlets. They picked up a couple to look 'interested' and to give themselves stuff to talk about. Walking into the main room there were several chairs lined up in front of a small, open area with a microphone. A table with coffee, soda, donuts and other pastries lined one wall. There were several people milling about, some couples but mostly single individuals.

The gathered group varied in ages and, to Bobby's surprise, in race as well, though it did seem to be dominated by middle-aged Caucasians.

"Welcome," an older gentleman, well, in his forties, but that was old to the likes of Bobby and Kitty, greeted them, "name's William, I'm _Humanity's Last Stand_ representative for the five boroughs."

William seemed like your average guy, the kind that might have come from a university lecture what with a sleeveless sweater thrown over his button up dress shirt, nicely trimmed hair, and respectable specs on his nose.

"David," Bobby introduced himself politely, "and this is my girlfriend, sorry," he acted like a goofball, so normal, really, "fiancée, Marra."

"Congratulations," the man said cheerfully, a rather congenial smile on his face, "always wonderful to see a young couple in love."

Kitty giggled and laid her head on Bobby's shoulder, it was everything he could do not to look at her like she had grown a second head.

"How did you hear about us?" he asked conversationally.

"The internet," Kitty answered for Bobby. "I was reading about that poor kid in Iowa, horrible, simply horrible."

"Such a shame," William shook his head, "God gave us differences so we could celebrate our uniqueness, we start stripping away at that and we are simply asking for conflict as the only way to express our individuality."

Bobby tried really hard to smile, "Took the words right out of my mouth."

Kitty gave him a little nudge but William didn't seem to notice.

"Well, I'm glad you could make it today," the representative gestured to the table, "please, help yourself to some refreshments and find yourself a good seat. If you have any questions before or after the meeting, don't hesitate to find me, or Jameson," he started to look around, "he's one of our upstate New York representatives…" he trailed off as he kept looking. "He was here a minute ago, oh, well, I'll introduce him during the meeting."

"Look forward to it," Kitty smiled, then with a thank you and nod, William moved on to greet another couple.

"Looks like someone drank the Kool-Aid," Bobby frowned once William was out of ear shot.

"Come on," Kitty pulled him towards the food table, "whatever happens, we have to pretend we agree, okay," she whispered as she picked up a soda, "I doubt William knows anything about Colonel Trask or Sentinel, so we need to get in their good graces."

"How long do you think that will take?" he frowned, picking up one of the nearly room temperature drinks.

"As long as it needs to," she replied, glaring at his hands wrapping around the can, "and don't you even think about icing that in here."

"Hey, I put a ring on it," he gestured to her fake engagement ring and decided to just go for it, "you're my woman now, you don't tell me what to do."

She looked like she was about to smack him, then a grin edged at the corners of her mouth, "That's the spirit, keep it up and they'll be having you running this outfit in no time."

"Thank you," Bobby gave a shrug of modesty, grinning at her, "you gonna fry my X-Box when we get home, aren't you?"

"Oh, you betcha," she moved past him towards the chairs.

…

"This is the exact route the convoy will be taking," Scott brought the map up on the screen in the conference room. "It's about a six hour drive between the Roanoke facility and the Air Force Research Lab at the Wright-Patterson Air Force Base," he hit a key and the map became dynamic, "it will be the next research base location for the Sentinel project."

"Air Force?" Jean interrupted, "I thought Sentinel was likely an Army project?"

"Gets to a point," Logan leaned back in his chair, "where a military project is so deep it can go literally anywhere there's a facility that can handle it."

Scott added, "I doubt even the base commander knows what Sentinel is, just that he has to make room for it."

"Ah, I see," the red head nodded.

"Alright, JP," Scott turned to the younger Canadian, "if you have enough endurance, I want you on point and on foot," he clicked a button and a bunch of dots came up along the route, "these have been identified as possible ambush points. I want you checking them out as regularly as you can, but use your best judgment, something doesn't look right you let us know."

"Six hours," the man nodded, studying the route, "yeah, I can do that, easy."

"Alright, Logan," he looked over at the grizzled man, "how would you feel about a float position?"

Wolverine raised a brow but Scott kept on, "I want you on your bike, moving in and around the convoy at all times. You smell anything out of the ordinary or one of the Brotherhood, you alert the rest of us."

The man gave a non-committal grunt and Scott took that as a yes.

"Ro," his eyes went to the Weather Witch, "it's six hours, think you could give us cloud cover and air support the whole time?"

"It won't be a problem," she gave a hint of a devious smile.

"Good," he smiled lightly in return, then he tilted his head towards the last member in the group, "Jean, I want you in the center of the convoy, not only keeping a telepathic link for us, but scanning for anything out of the ordinary. The Brotherhood, Mystique, nervous personal who may have been compromised," the telepath nodded her understanding, "you'll ride with Bobby, that way you can put your whole concentration on your telepathy."

"Sounds good," she agreed with the plan.

"I'll take the rear," he added as the last point of contention, "Anyone have anything to add?"

"What kind of military support are we looking at?" JP asked.

"Not a whole lot," Scott frowned. "If the Brotherhood shows up then our goal is to keep them from getting to the cargo and letting the trucks escape."

"They might not attack," Jean pointed out, "they could watch to see where Sentinel will be located next."

"If that's the case then we'll see if we can keep them from finding out," Scott paused a second, "but we'll try not to directly engage them, we don't want anyone getting hurt, us, military, civilians, if we can avoid it."

"Risking our lives to help Sentinel," Logan growled and otherwise didn't look too pleased.

Before Scott could retort, Storm's booming voice echoed across the table, "History is strewn with men and women doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, and doing the right thing for the wrong reasons," she spoke sternly to them, "but as of this moment, all we can do is prove we are not the monsters, it is for History to decide if this is true."

…

"It is true, in the past, man has fought man over their differences, be it race, religion, or nationality," William was standing at the front of the room giving his speech, "and that has been wrong, but the answer is not to eradicate our differences, to make us all one thought, one color… that's exactly what started these wars in the first place. Unrealistic pressures to conform. Instead, we must embrace what makes us different, what sets us aside from the other man."

Bobby couldn't help but think that buried under there somewhere was a good message, simply warped by those of the HLS. Perhaps that's how they gained a following, a kernel of truth in the lie…

"God created man to be caretakers of his world," William continued, "he gave man differences, separated him into groups, Caucasian, Negroid, Mongolian, Australoid, so they were better adept to survive in the world they were meant to govern. And now we want to go and erase what God gave us?"

The Iceman could hear someone get up and leave, he wanted to join them but did his best to look interested.

"We must embrace our differences," William wasn't fazed and did a broad sweep of his hands, "we must protect those differences. Only then may we know peace."

…

"The X-Men on board?" Val asked as she stood in a debriefing room along with several others.

"They are," Duncan said as attention turned to him, "they'll provide cover and support. If a fight does break out I'd stay clear, but I don't want them to be considered expendable either."

"Of course not," the woman nodded and went back to the rest of the group, "three squads are going to be assigned to us tomorrow for the move, they don't even know it's going to happen, so that should cut down on possible leaks. They will be from the Army's Omega's, they know about mutants so shouldn't be a problem reacting if we're attacked."

"The Omega's?" Duncan asked.

She gave him a look then realized, "Oh, yeah, you probably never heard about them in the FBI. Omega's is a slang term for any military unit who is privy to a lot of those kinds of secrets."

"Ah," he gathered that there had to be some groups like that, it would be hard to keep mutants a secret from everyone, "but why Omega's?"

"Cause they get the crap end of every assignment," one of the other guys piped in.

Val gave the man a dirty look then conceded, "They do tend to get the more questionable assignments since they already have the clearance. Anyway," she waved him off, "our team's job is to secure the package through the whole trip. If there is a fight, let the Army and the X-Men handle it, we have to secure Nimrod."

"If we get attacked though," one of the ladies spoke up, "doesn't that mean they'll know where Nimrod is going? We'll have to move it again."

"That, or they simply followed us," Val shook her head, "but if we all do our job, then we don't have to worry about it."

…

"I think I just lost some IQ points," Bobby mumbled as the two milled about after the meeting.

"You were right about the Kool-Aid," Kitty was trying not to frown.

"Someone will always drink the Kool-Aid," Bobby was also doing his best not to seem anything but pleased at having been there, "at least, if the internet is anything to go by."

"I guess that's true," she admitted, "and really freaking sad."

"David, Marra," they almost didn't answer to their 'names' when William came over, another gentleman by his side, this one more rough cut and wearing military BDU's, "how did you enjoy the meeting?"

"It was very informative," Kitty saved Bobby from saying something stupid, or truthful, "you can read this stuff but you really gave it life and emotion."

"Everything is much more clear," Bobby added, a little proud of himself for not saying what he really felt.

"Sometimes you just have to experience the message first hand to truly appreciate it, yes," William smiled warmly then gestured to the other man, "and this is Jameson, I mentioned him earlier."

"Always a pleasure to see ones so young get involved," Jameson nodded, giving them a hand shake.

"You can blame this little firecracker right here," Bobby put his arm around Kitty before she had a chance to say anything about not being 'that young', "she was the one to discover your group."

"Fortuitous, I'm sure," the man, Jameson, wasn't nearly as good natured as William, which is probably why he wasn't the one doing the public speaking.

"Would you be interested in learning more about HLS?" William ignored the other man.

Bobby glanced at Kitty who looked up at him, of course they wanted to learn more, but it couldn't be that easy, could it?

"Yes," Kitty finally said with a smile, "I think we still have much to learn."

"Glad to hear it," William reached into his back pocket and pulled out some small pamplets, handing over one. "The HLS gathers once a week at one of our camps. If it's not too much of a drive, we'd like to see you there, tomorrow."

Glancing at the address, Bobby figured it was barely an hour from Westchester, "I think we'll manage."

"William," Jameson turned towards the man, saying quietly, "are you sure about these two? They look fairly young, they might not be ready for all HLS has to share."

"Honestly," William gave him a funny look, "I figured you'd be all for them joining. We could use young, forward thinkers. Isn't that what you were just telling me last week?"

Jameson opened his mouth to argue, then realized he was already making a butt of himself and nodded his defeat, turning back to Bobby and Kitty, giving them a small smile. "Yes, young, forward thinkers. That's obviously what we have here, how could I be mistaken?"

…

"Well, that was quick," Scott frowned as he sat in the study with the team.

"Maybe not that quick," Bobby said, "I mean, they said it was a satellite base, not the main one. They might not have anything about Trask there at all."

"Though if they have a computer system that's connected," Kitty piped up, "then I should be able to find all sorts of goodies."

"It's a good next step for undercover work," JP pointed out.

"Yes," Scott frowned, "but it's tomorrow."

"Six o'clock," Bobby added, "it's like forty-five minutes from here."

"You won't be able to come on the mission," Jean told them, "you'll never be back in time."

"I'm more worried that we won't be able to send backup with them," Scott pointed out, "the rest of us will be guarding the Sentinel project."

"I can babysit the kids," Logan offered from where he stood off to the side.

"I think," Storm turned to him, "that with the nature of the mission, it's best if you stay with the team. I will go with Bobby and Kitty."

"I agree," Scott looked between the two, "being on the move, your tracking skills will come in handy, Logan."

The feral man looked mad because he couldn't argue.

"You should still do the mission, 'Ro," Kitty said, "this is just a meeting to see if we'd make good members. We weren't the only ones invited from tonight as well, I think they invited everyone who stuck around, so I doubt they're that worried about security right now."

Scott thought it over for a moment, looking between the two younger mutants. Bobby had shown himself to be pretty reliable and able to handle everything that had been thrown at him, including almost getting killed by Sabretooth. Kitty was a pretty quick thinker, making the right choice even if it led her to getting absorbed by Rogue on their first outing.

"Alright," he acquiesced, "just don't take any unnecessary risks. We have time to let this play out. If you have to sit in on a few meetings, then I guess no harm."

"Exactly," Bobby and Kitty nodded their agreement.

Scott let out a long breath, tomorrow was going to be one hell of a busy day.

* * *

**1X06 – The Trask at Hand - Act III**

"You know," Jean-Paul was leaning up against the wall in the garage, "I could probably run to Virginia faster than you guys can fly there."

Scott glanced up from where he was stowing his bag in the back of Storm's Ford _Fusion_, and upon thinking about it, frowned.

"I mean, you have to drive to the airport," JP shrugged, "then fly to an airport in Virginia, then drive to the facility…"

"Fred said that we'll be met by a member of their team at the airport," Scott threw another small bag in and closed the trunk, "but yeah. At least it's a small craft airport, not nearly as much waiting to take off."

"Still," the Canadian pushed off the wall, "not exactly rapid response."

"Well," Scott gave him a thoughtful frown, "I am looking for a better, faster plane, guess I'll look into other airports, there might be a few private ones closer."

"What about building one in the back yard?" JP gestured outside through the opened garage door. It was still dark outside, they knew they had to get a move out early if they were going to be in Virginia in time for the convoy. But the deep blue-black of the sky made a distinct edge against the green-black of the tree line that even Scott could see through his red vision.

Scott tilted his head, "You mean build a private air strip?"

"Sure," JP pointed to the right, "plenty of acreage, plus you got a terrakinetic who could completely landscape it, flatten it out. Saves on building costs right there."

"Hhmm," it sounded like a good idea until Scott realized, "but even if it's private I'm sure there's probably a license required by the FFA, maybe a beacon tower. Then we'd have to arrange for a fuel tank to be set up and filled regularly. Not to mention have it reinforced in case someone's powers go a little off."

"True," he frowned a little, as if he hadn't thought it completely through.

"It's a good idea," Scott admitted, "but the practicality is an issue that needs to be looked into, see if it's worth the cost."

"It's not," they both turned their heads to see Bobby come into the garage wearing his pajamas.

Scott raised one brow, "You've already done a cost analysis?"

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," the accountant said, "but I've already done the budget for next year, so no. Whatever it is: no."

"We wanted to build a roller coaster," JP said with a straight face.

Bobby raised his hand to say 'no' again, but then paused, as if he couldn't bring himself to do so.

"You two ready?" Jean asked as she walked into the garage with Ororo.

"We're good," Scott tossed Storm's keys back to her, "you?"

"The children's class schedule will not be interrupted," 'Ro assured them, heading over to the driver's side of her _Fusion_.

"I'm going to owe Betsy a new pair of Jimmy Choo's," Jean smirked, "she's taken a lot of the class load."

"Do I get anything for subbing all the math classes?" Bobby turned to Scott.

"Um," Scott had to think quickly, "the knowledge that you did a job well done and helped out the team?"

Bobby stared at the optic mutant blankly, then he turned to Jean, the red head giving him a pity smile and saying, "I'll get you that new Batman game."

"Yay!" the Iceman clapped his hands like a three year old.

"Well," JP chuckled, "if mom and dad here are done showing off their fantastic parenting skills," Jean rolled her eyes at him, "then I guess we're off."

"Where's Logan?" Bobby asked as they all started to load into the car.

"Left yesterday on his bike," Scott told him as he got into the front passenger's side, "said he'd meet us down there."

"Oh, okay," he nodded, "well, 'Have fun storming the castle!'"

…

The Acolytes were standing in a dingy hotel room, looking over some maps and items laid out on the table.

"We're going to have a very short window of opportunity," Quicksilver told them, gesturing to a particular point on the map, "we'll come in this way, it will be the least guarded."

"How short of a window?" Pyro asked.

"Fifteen minutes," their leader answered with a bit of a 'give or take' tone to his voice.

"Are you sure we're not underestimating their response?" Rogue wanted to be absolutely sure before going into the situation.

"Our intel is sound," he assured her "as long as we stick with the plan I've laid out, we should finally catch a break."

…

A jeep pulled into a large hanger on the military base where Nimrod and all of Sentinel's components were being held under extreme lockdown before being moved. Several fortified SUV's lined the side of the building while men in black S.W.A.T. like armor stood around.

As the vehicle parked, Scott could see A.D. Cooper standing between two of the SUV's, reading something off a clipboard, not even registering that they were there yet.

When they came to a stop, the four mutants slipped out to little fanfare, just a few wary eyes turned towards them.

"Summers," he heard the familiar voice of Agent Duncan.

"Fred," Scott offered him half a smile, starting to feel a little overwhelmed at the situation.

"Just in time for the final debrief," the older man told them, nodding to the rest of the team.

"Any brotherhood activity?" he asked as Duncan led them over to a line of tables with computers and other tactical equipment.

"Only thing we picked up so far is Wolverine snooping around," Cooper answered as she joined them in the command area.

"He's doing his job then," Scott said easily, trying to be civil but not wanting to be treated like the criminals they were there to help defend from.

"I've read his file," she crossed her arms and gave him a quizative tug of her head, "the non-redacted one."

"Then you know his skills," Storm said with a small smile, "he is good at what he does."

"And what he does is not very nice," Cooper gave the Weather Witch a smirk, "I'm surprised you let him hang around the school."

"He's a changed man," Ororo assured the woman.

"Nobody changes that much."

…

"Bobby was the best substitute teacher, ever," Jubilee laughed as she sat on Kitty's bed, playing with the older girl's large, stuffed, purple dragon. "We had about ten minutes of actually learning, then Ben got Bobby talking about the Batman video games and it was all over."

"Scott's just going to work you twice as hard when he gets back," Kitty grinned as she finished doing her makeup and hair, adding a few years to her age with the right touches.

"Totally worth it," Jubilee hugged the dragon, resting her head on it, "so what do you think they're doing right now? Fighting the Acolytes?"

Kitty looked at Jubilee through her mirror, chewing her lip slightly before giving a shrug, "I dunno, maybe. Jean texted me when they got to Virginia but they were going 'radio silent' and I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to update Twitter when that happens."

Jubilee gave a little snort, "That's something Bobby would do."

"You might be right about that," she chuckled.

"But seriously," the girl sat the stuffed animal to the side, "they could literally be in a knock-out, drag down fight right now."

"I guess so," she hadn't really thought of it in those terms, "but they'll be alright."

"I know," Jubilee shrugged, then let out a small laugh, "I remember Storm kicking a lot of butt when she and Big G found me at the mall. And you saw how she took out Jeanne-Marie when she was running amuck. No, I ain't worried."

"See," Kitty smiled and went back to fixing her hair, "there you go then."

"Yeah," Jubilee tucked her feet under herself, "but this is only the beginning, isn't it? In ten years, we're still going to be fighting, if not the Brotherhood, then the government, someone."

Kitty turned in her chair, never having seen the normally jubilant young woman so down trodden, "That's why we're doing this, so there won't be a Brotherhood or someone to fight in ten years."

Jubilee gave her a wry frown. "Isn't that what they thought in World War I?"

The older girl didn't really know how to respond to that.

…

Rolling down the highway at sixty-five miles an hour was a train of military vehicles, mostly all Humvees, but a few transport trucks as well. The sky was overcast, some might even think it threatened rain, but Storm would keep it in check.

"Five hours in," Scott mumbled from the back seat of their selected Humvee, "still no sign of the Acolytes, or any Brotherhood."

"I'm not sensing anything," next to him sat Jean who was staring out the window, "one second."

She closed her eyes and he watched how she crinkled her brow, lifting one hand to put pressure on her temple as she strained slightly.

"Just checked in with the others," the woman blinked then turned to him, "they haven't seen anything that makes them think the Brotherhood is around."

"They could be waiting till we get closer to the base," Fred spoke up from the front passenger seat, "strike when they think we're tired from the trip."

"It's a possibility," Scott let out a long breath, "I don't know though, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if they would risk it. They have to know the military would be expecting them."

"They attacked the fortified facility Cooper took Rogue too," Fred let out a little snort, "I wouldn't under estimate the Brotherhood's cunning."

"Or insanity," Jean said wryly.

"True," he had to give them that one, "I'm just thinking we started this game five rounds behind, no, I know we did, but for the life of me I don't know how to catch up."

"You could always cheat," their driver, Nolan, spoke up for the first time, he was an Army Ranger in his mid-twenties, and from the Southwest if his accent was anything to go by.

"We could," Scott spoke up, "but where would be the satisfaction in that?"

"Suppose," the man shrugged, "but if I may be a little Machiavellian, sometimes the end does justify the means. World ain't that black and white."

Fred glanced back at Scott and he could also feel Jean's penetrating gaze, so Scott said, "Well, I think I'd like to leave that as a trump card for situations that truly require it."

"Fair enough," Nolan shrugged and lazily turned the wheel as they took a wide curve, "but you know, you don't have to play White Knight for Cooper. Sure, she's a hard ass, but only because she cares."

"I'll keep that in mind," was all Scott could think to say to that particular comment.

"Personally, I think you guys being mutants is pretty cool," the driver threw them a grin, "I mean, you're a telepath right? I'm sure you hear a lot of stuff you don't wanna, but in general, that's gotta be pretty wicked."

Jean gave him a waning smile, "It has its moments."

"And you," Nolan turned his attention to Scott but went back to watching the road, "I'm told you shoot laser beams out of your eyes like Superman, that's… that's out of this world."

"Technically I compress the visible red spectrum into dense light," Scott found his voice got smaller as he talked, "Superman has heat vision."

"Oh, well, still cool," the driver shrugged, "and I've heard of some amazing abilities. Man, what I wouldn't give to be a mutant," Scott and Jean exchanged glasses, "to be special like that."

Scott frowned, "Everyone has something special about them."

Nolan snorted, "Tell that to my old man."

Not sure what he was going to say, Scott opened his mouth anyway to at least reiterate his point, but Jean put her hand on his. The woman gave a slight shake of her head, the universal sign to 'just let it go'. She must have gleaned something from the man and he trusted her that this perhaps wasn't an avenue to go down with a little over an hour left to go on their trip.

Turning his attention out the window, Scott realized this was the first time he had met a human who knew about mutants… and wanted to be one not because it would be 'awesome to be invisible and sneak into the women's locker room' but because they thought there was something special, something better, about being a mutant.

…

"Okay," Bobby said as they pulled down a long dirt road lined with overgrown trees, "this doesn't scream horror film at all."

Kitty gave him a bland look, "Really, that's what you're going with?"

"It was that or redneck militant crazies," the SUV road smoothly over the ruts in the mud, "but I thought that was a little culturally insensitive."

"You think?"

"Oh, here we go," Bobby said as they approached a fortified gate made of steel bars a few inches thick with razor wire on top. A man wearing a button up and jeans waved them to a stop.

"Name," the greeter was good natured enough as he held up a clipboard, but it was the two guys with AR's slung over their shoulder who stood in the background that made Bobby question if 'militant crazies' was actually pretty accurate.

"David Baker," he told the man, "and my fiancé, Marra Noble."

"ID's?" he asked as he looked at his clipboard, Bobby noticing a man with a dog come sniffing around the back end of the vehicle.

"Ah," Bobby wasn't prepared so he fished the fake ID out of his wallet, so glad Kitty had insisted that he bring it along, while she pulled hers out of her purse, then handed both to the guard, "here you go."

"Right," the man seemed satisfied and passed them back, "head straight down, park next to the main building, that's where the meeting will be held."

"Thanks," Bobby smiled and the man turned away, making a hand gesture to someone, then the gate started to open, being pulled to the side by cables.

Easing the Escape through, it wasn't very long before they pulled into the camp itself. There were several smaller buildings, a couple which looked like dormitories, but at the center was a large concrete meeting hall. Several cars lined up against it.

Parking next in line, the two looked around as they headed towards the entrance, banking that it wouldn't be unusual for newbies to do so.

"That is probably the command center," Kitty commented as she gestured with her eyes to a smaller concrete building with few windows and satellites on the roof.

"Doesn't look guarded," he replied quietly, "bet it has alarms and stuff."

"Likely," she said as if she wasn't bothered by the idea.

The front doors of the building were left open and they could see that it led into a large, almost gym-like area, with seats all lined towards a stage at the back. People were milling about everywhere.

"Ah, welcome," William found them, in the same sleeveless sweater get up, only in a different color, "glad you could make it."

"We're very interested in learning more," Bobby smiled, trying to 'act natural'.

"Good," the man returned their smile, pointing to the stage, "and you're in luck, our founder, Simon Trask, will be speaking today."

Bobby couldn't keep the look of surprise off his face as he saw the man from the pictures Kitty had showed them, Simon Trask, standing on the stage, speaking to a few gentlemen, "That's cool."

"It is indeed," William was genuinely happy, "he doesn't come out this way that often, so it's a real treat."

"Well," Kitty giggled like she was apt to do, "can't wait."

…

"We'll be pulling into the base soon," Nolan told them, "fifteen minutes."

Scott looked over at Jean, "I guess if the Acolytes are going to do something, it's now or never."

The woman nodded, then closed her eyes as she sent a message to the rest of the team.

Scott went back to looking out the window, waiting for the inevitable.

…

"Our humanity is the only thing that separates us from the animals," Simon Trask spoke with convection as he stood at the podium, "we cannot allow it to be polluted or muddled. Once it congeals into a murky mess then we're left with a people of no culture, no heritage."

Several individuals started clapping and Bobby joined in to hold the deception.

"I'm glad to see so many faces here today," Simon told the group, "I hope to see you again as Humanity's Last Stand grows in sending its message. Refreshments are available at the back of the room, so please, stick around for a bit and feel free to ask any and all questions or concerns you might have. Thank you."

With that, the nearly forty minute meeting broke up and people began milling about.

"Think we should talk to Simon?" Bobby asked his 'fiancée' as he watched the man step off the stage to speak to some of the HLS members.

"Probably best to keep a low profile right now," Kitty replied, "that's what they do in the movies, right?"

"Good point," and it was also made moot by the fact that Simon Trask looked to be leaving anyway.

"Alright," she said quietly as she pointed to the restrooms in the back, "I'm going to sneak out through there, head over to the command center and see what I can find."

"Be careful," Bobby tried not to frown, "they probably have cameras everywhere."

"Noted," she nodded, "and why don't you mingle, talk to some of the members, see what you can find out about the group that they aren't telling us?"

Bobby frowned, "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"I dunno," Kitty shrugged and tried to hide a grin, "fly casual."

"Oh, you didn't," Bobby tried not to laugh when he caught the joke.

With a wink, the girl headed towards the bathroom and Bobby let out a deep breath. How was he supposed to pull this off?

…

The hard part about avoiding cameras is that they are often pointing at areas that you have to go through in order to get from point A to point B. The easy part about avoiding cameras is if you can walk through solid objects this means you can make a route C.

Phasing through a concrete wall that lined around the A/C units, Kitty avoided the cameras and snuck into the side of the command center, making sure to duck low in case anyone might be looking in her direction. She managed to phase through the wall into a filing cabinet, so she poked her head out and saw a typical office with 1960s metal desks, more filing cabinets, and of course, a few computers.

There were also no cameras inside the office area, which she counted as a blessing. Still keeping low, she crept over to a windowed wall which led into the main open area of the complex. The room beyond almost looked like a war room. It had a big table in the middle and more desks lining the wall. There was a huge map hanging on the far end.

Seeing as the building seemed to be empty, Kitty made herself comfortable at one of the computers. It didn't take her long to bypass the password lock and she was going through the records quickly. Knowing she didn't have time to read it all, she bundled up what she could and connected to a remote server which would be untraceable thanks to Doug.

A simple drop and download and they could sort through the information later.

Hearing voices outside the main door, Kitty quickly turned off the monitor then ducked under the desk, pulling the chair towards her. She didn't want to leave just yet, she wanted to make sure to cover her tracks on the download.

Watching through the chair, she saw Simon, or at least the gaudy 70s reject pants he had been wearing, and three others enter the office and head to the door leading into the 'war room'. They were busy talking to each other and none showed signs of seeing her small figure under the desk.

"Are you sure?" an unfamiliar voice said, "no one knows I'm here?"

"I promise you," Simon Trask replied.

The group entered the war room and closed the door behind them. Kitty was just trying to figure out what to do next, the download still had another couple of minutes to finish, when the door opened again. This time, she barely heard footfalls at all as someone entered light on their feet.

Kitty saw the figure pass, the man's arms lifting up their coat to reveal a gun belt around his waist with a hand gun and taser attached. He pulled out the gun and checked the chamber.

The young woman had seen enough movies to know what that meant.

With only seconds to think about what was about to go down, Kitty jumped up, phasing through the chair to run across the room. She went solid long enough to pull the fire alarm, instantly the siren going off.

Going intangible immediately after pulling the alarm, she ran towards the door to get away from the gunman, hoping that the men inside the war room could use this warning to their advantage and disappear out of the back exit.

The front door opened before she even got close and William started to walk in, a confused look on his face. Shots rang out, two bullets passing right through Kitty, hitting the man square in the chest. Kitty stifled a scream as his expression turned blank, his body hunching over and crumbling to the ground.

"I told him," Jameson's voice said behind her and Kitty looked over her shoulder to see the man, gun hanging lose in his right hand, his left brandishing the taser at her, sparks of electricity hopping angrily across the prongs, "it was a bad idea to invite you."

Jameson's skin began to flip back, blue scales moving in an almost hypnotic motion, until Kitty was face to face with a blue skinned woman with red hair and yellow eyes… Mystique.

* * *

**1X06 – The Trask At Hand – Act IV**

"Mystique," the word fell off Kitty's lips as she was slightly frozen in her spot. Even though she was still phased, she did not like the look of the taser at all.

The woman smirked slightly, as if she was amused that this little girl knew her name, "Intangibility, very useful ability, but wrecks havoc on electronics, am I right?"

Kitty didn't answer, trying to get up the courage to run even with Mystique in lunging distance.

"But that's a light, controlled, current," the woman continued to talk and Kitty remembered what Logan said, the woman wasn't apt to give you a chance to escape if she wanted you dead, "what happens when your molecules come in contact with a high powered electrical discharge?" Mystique didn't even bother letting Kitty answer, not that she would, "You don't even know, do you?"

Keeping her eyes on the taser, Kitty tried to keep a straight face but knew she was failing miserably.

"Honestly," Mystique gave something of a laugh, "what does he even teach at that school? How to be normal? How to _fit in_ with humans?" she spat out her words, "You have an incredible gift but you stand here like a weakling because you don't even know the limitations of your own powers."

Kitty honestly didn't know if the taser would do nothing to her or perhaps destabilize her structure. If she was honest with herself, she had always been too afraid to find out.

There were noises and two men brandishing weapons started to come through the door that led from the war room. Mystique didn't even blink, she lifted her gun and shot them both with point blank precision.

Using that as a distraction, Kitty ran for the nearest outside wall and once she passed through it, kept on running.

…

Mystique put the taser back on her belt, she wasn't going to be using it as unfortunately her plans seemed to have unraveled. It happens though, she only needed to salvage what she could.

First off, she could see the look in the young one's eyes when she pointed out her lack of knowledge, and that brought a little smile to Mystique's lips.

Secondly, she was a strong believer in 'when in doubt, just blow everything up'.

Pulling the last item from her belt which was a small black box with a toggle on the end, she hit the switch.

That done, she casually walked outside into the fray, changing shape once again.

…

Kitty was turned around, she came out of the building on a different side than she went in and people were starting to run everywhere thanks to the alarm she set off and the gun shots. She started to book it towards the meeting hall when the first explosion went off.

A plume of smoke rose above the meeting hall.

"Bobby!" she shouted into the air.

Another explosion went off to her left, the motor pool now becoming in dire need of a new roof.

"Crap, crap, crap," she ran towards the meeting hall, smoke billowing out of the open front doors.

She was just about to run in when she heard, "Kitty!"

Turning her head, she saw the Iceman jogging towards her, "Bobby!"

"You're okay," he seemed relieved when he saw her, completely out of breath as he came to a stop in front of her, "what just happened?"

"It's Mystique, she…" Kitty trailed off, taking a step back as she realized, "how do I know you're really Bobby?"

"Huh?" his jaw gapped a little and his eyebrows did that weird thing.

"Oh thank goddness, it's you," she took a breath she had unconsciously held, "Mystique, she's here, I think she came to kill or kidnap Trask."

"Wait, what?" she could see him do a mental double take, definitely Bobby, "Did she get him?"

"I pulled the fire alarm," Kitty shook her head, then suddenly it hit her and a lump entered her throat making it was hard to breath, "she… she shot William. She shot right through me and hit William."

Her extremities went cold and she knew, in a little part in the back of her brain, that this was shock settling in, but there was nothing she could do about it. William was dead, he died right in front of her.

"Kitty," Bobby put his hands on her shoulder, "it'll be okay, but if Mystique is here, we need to leave, now."

"The people," her brain was listening to him, "in the meeting hall, did everyone get out?"

"Yes," he started leading her towards the side of the building where the vehicles were parked, "I threw up an ice wall and blocked the brunt of it."

"Good," that made her feel better, knowing that so far no one else had been hurt.

"There, them!" a voice shouted out and they looked up to see Jameson, well, Mystique in Jameson's skin, and several guards blocking their path, "they're spies, they killed William!"

The guards brought their AR's to bare and all Kitty heard was Bobby's lamented, "Ah, crap…"

…

"Do another sweep," Scott asked Jean as they stood around in another hanger, this one on at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.

"Sure," Jean closed her eyes and put her hand to her temple, and as she scanned everyone on the base, she turned slightly. When she was done, she looked straight at Scott, "I'm telling you, nothing. No Brotherhood sympathizers, no one with telepath blocking," she sighed, "there is no sign of the Acolytes."

"Why would they have passed this opportunity up?" he frowned, shaking his head.

"I don't know," she told him with a shrug, "but, well, at least Bobby didn't end up coming after all, he'd have been bored to tears."

"True," he admitted, "but listening to some old guys ramble on about thinly veiled racial supremacy, can't be much more exciting."

…

"Ah, crap…" the guardsmen did not look like they were going to ask questions first and any ice wall he could throw up quick enough would not block high velocity rounds.

He started to push Kitty away, to get her out of the line of fire, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her. The next thing he knew, he felt funny.

His entire body's density had been reduced to near zero as Kitty transferred her ability to go intangible to include him. He knew she could do it but he had never experienced it before. Clutching her wrist he was irrationally afraid to lose contact, not because then he might get shot, but because he didn't know what that would mean for his body.

The pair quickly ran around the side of the building, dodging some vehicles which had parked on the other side of the currently on fire meeting hall.

Suddenly he was solid again, breathing deeply as they leaned against someone's truck.

"Did…" Kitty was also out of breath, "did you just try to chivalrously push me out of the way?"

"Um," he actually had to think about that, his brain was so chaotic, "yeah?"

"Hello," she waved her hand in the air, "intangible girl."

"Yeah, my bad," he frowned.

"No," she gave him a small smile, "the thought was nice, thanks."

"Thanks," he tried to smile back, but he felt a bit like an idiot, after all, Kitty didn't need to be saved thanks to her mutation, he was the one who needed saving. But he tried to push her out of the way anyway, "so why does being the hero kinda make me feel stupid?"

Kitty gave him a blank look, like she was trying to come up with a legit answer but was failing miserably.

"They're over here," someone shouted and Bobby dared to look over his shoulder and through the windows of the truck to see the men spread out, looking for them.

"We'll take a short cut," Kitty held out her hand and gestured her head toward the ablazed meeting hall.

"You're not wearing yourself out," he said as he took her hand, he had no idea how long Kitty could keep up being intangible.

"I'm good," she assured him and once again he felt funny.

Letting her take the lead, they ran into the wall, phasing through it easily. Bobby nearly recoiled when he saw the flames which were dropping from the timbered ceiling and eating at the stage. Kitty dutifully kept hold, nearly dragging him through the hall.

Once they passed through the other end and realized no one was there, they went solid again.

"This way," Bobby ran down the line of cars, using his fob to remote start the Ford _Escape_ and unlock the doors. Thankfully, he found his SUV nearly untouched, only some light ash laying on it from the fire.

Hopping inside, he wasted no time in throwing it into reverse. Peeling out he made a wide turn to get free of the other vehicles. As he went to put the SUV in drive, the automatic rear-view camera showed one of the guards bringing his rifle up.

"Down," he shouted, ducking as he grabbed Kitty by the shoulder, pushing her farther into the seat.

Glass shattered as Bobby put the gear into drive, hitting the gas and speeding forward. He swung around into the main throughway and headed straight for the gate.

"I may not have thought this through," he said as he realized even his SUV wouldn't be able to plough down the solid barrier he was fast approaching, let alone the fact that he was now an obvious target for the guardsmen.

"Kill the engine," Kitty shouted as she put her hands on the dash.

"Huh?" it took him a second to realize what she was going to do, but once it clicked, he threw the Escape into neutral and used the push button igniter system to turn it off.

Kitty closed her eyes and took a breath, the whole vehicle going intangible but still rolling forward thanks to momentum and the fact they were luckily going downhill. A few shots rang through their intangible form but then quickly stopped as the guards were completely clueless as to what was going on.

Easily the Escape passed through the gate, Bobby looking one wide-eyed guard straight in the eye, even giving him a little wave as they went by. But the SUV was slowing down and hit a dip in the road.

"Bobby," Kitty said, "get ready."

Grabbing the wheel, which was odd since it was also intangible therefore tangible to him, he was ready as he was ever going to be. Kitty returned them to a solid state and he hit the push button ignition, though nothing happened. Going intangible had messed with its electronics, but how badly?

"Come on," he dared not look in the review, keeping his head low, "start, you can do it baby, start for me."

The internal lights came back on the engine roared to life.

"Oh yeah," Bobby put the SUV in drive and hit the gas, "always buy American."

Kitty laughed, somewhere between relieved and amazed as she was turned in her seat, watching the HLS camp disappear into the background.

…

"If you'll follow Sergeant Nolan," Copper told the group of four mutants as Wolverine was still out and about, somewhere, "he'll take you to Hanger 19, you'll get a lift back to Virginia."

"Did your team pick up on the Brotherhood at all?" Scott asked her as she looked to be turning away to leave them with that.

"No," she said with a little reservation, "yours?"

"No," he admitted with a light shake of his head, "I thought they would be all over this."

"I'd like to think we were just that good at keeping this quiet," the Homeland Assistant Director crossed her arms, "but I'm sure it's not as simple as that."

"It rarely is," commented Ororo.

…

Deep inside a secured facility, a man with a black bag slung over his shoulder walked down a hallway, stopping at a particular door. He swiped an ID badge and made his way through several doors and check points, the last door being labeled 'Security'.

"You IT?" another man asked, standing up from his computer station in front of several monitors.

"Got a service ticket that you were having some problems?" Pyro said in his best American accent which was just a shade Midwestern due to the fact the American he spent the most time around was Rogue.

"Computer is being slow, locking up for no reason," the man gestured to the offending article.

"Been visiting places you shouldn't," Pyro asked as he sat down in the chair.

"Of course not," the security guard defending a little too quickly.

"Dude," the Australian looked at him over the rim of the fake glasses he was wearing, black frames to compliment the dark brown dye job on his hair, "I'm gonna check your browser history."

The other guy tried to hide a frown and worry lines.

"Why don't you get me a coffee, milk and one sugar," Pyro turned back to the system, "and I'll pretend I didn't see anything."

"Sounds fair," the guard said, reaching over to hit the mic, "Section 12, I have IT here, going to transfer to you guys for a few minutes."

"Roger that," came a reply.

"Milk, one sugar," he reminded the guard as he tapped at a few buttons.

"Gotcha," the guard headed out the door.

Once the guard was gone, Pyro started the anti-virus to clean up whatever was bothering the computer. This security hut was actually on the complete other side of the building but it was the only one with a legit IT ticket on it he could use to his advantage.

Thankfully, Pyro knew how to get into the other security feeds from across the building and bring up the ones that he needed to.

Slipping a Bluetooth onto his ear, he said, "It's a go."

…

"_Even if the sky is falling down_," Jubilee was singing as she had her earbuds in, working on her homework, "_I know that we'll be safe and sound_."

A pillow hit her in the back of the head.

"_Even in a hurricane of frowns_," Jubilee sang louder, "_We'll be safe and sound_."

"I'm trying to do my homework too!" Meg decried from the other side of the room, laughing.

"_Saaaaaafe and soooooound…_" she cracked herself up and started laughing.

"Hey," Meg got up and went to the window, "someone's back."

Jubilee pulled the earbuds out and joined her. Their room was situation where when vehicles came around to park in the garage, they would get the headlights flashing through their window.

"I think that's Bobby's," Jubilee was pretty sure, the lights sat higher on the Escape than the Focus, "I wonder how their super secret spy thing went."

"If it's super secret," Meg frowned at her, "then how do you know about it?"

"Cause I'm awesome," there was an unspoken 'duh' in there, "come on."

The two girls headed out of the room, skipping down the stairs and nearly hitting Doug who was about to head up.

"Bobby and Kitty are back," Jubilee told him without breaking her stride, she could hear him follow though at a more reasonable pace.

It wasn't long before they reached the garage, barreling through the door with a laugh. Bobby and Kitty were getting out of the Escape just as the girls rounded around Jean's Focus. Jubilee came to a halt, not believing what she was seeing.

"Are those…" she blinked, studying the side of the SUV and its missing window, "bullet holes."

"Ah," Bobby ran his hand over a couple of them, "yes?"

"Oh my god," Meg gasped, pointing at Kitty, "is that blood on your shirt?"

Kitty glanced down and pulled her shirt from her chest, seeing the faint brown-ish red specks which too many episodes of _Dexter_ told Jubilee they were from high-velocity blood spatter, like from standing near a person who was shot. The older girl looked at the garment as if she had only just noticed they were there.

"William," Kitty said sadly.

"Who's William?" Doug asked, having appeared behind Jubilee and Kitty.

The girl looked up and frowned, a cleared voice turning all their attention to the open door of the garage. The Professor has his wheelchair just over the threshold, "Robert, Katherine, freshen up and I would like to see you in my office."

"Of course, Professor," Bobby nodded, gently putting his hand on Kitty's back and leading her forward.

"Perhaps you should go through the service entrance," the Professor added with a frown, "so as not to upset the younger children."

"Good idea," Kitty turned away from Bobby and headed down the other end of the garage, Bobby following behind.

"It'll be curfew soon," the Professor addressed the three of them, "you should head back to your rooms."

"Yes, Professor," Doug took one last look at Kitty and Bobby's retreating figures then headed towards the Professor who had backed up and was leaving, presumably to go to his office.

"What happened," Meg asked her, staring at the bullet riddled Escape.

For once, Jubilee didn't have an answer for her, not even a sarcastic one.

…

Two figures walked through a security station, having their badges checked and going through the metal detector. Everything checked out and they headed to the elevators. Selecting the first one that became available, riding it up to the third floor.

Upon exiting, they walked down the hall with muted purpose, as if they had done this a thousand times.

"Fifteen minutes," the man with the dark brown hair said.

"Done in ten," the woman with the long black hair replied.

Quicksilver and Rogue had changed their appearance so as not to be immediately noticeable with their distinctive hair colors. Rogue had even forgone her gloves, her nails dressed up with a gold tipped manicure. She kept unconsciously sticking her hands in her pockets, as if it was just natural.

Pulling a bluetooth out of her pocket, she slipped it on her ear to connect to her phone and the other man on the end of the connection.

"All clear?" she asked.

"Security is cleared out, cameras are taken care of," Pyro replied, "the office is empty, every one who was left at the office are on break. Now or never."

"Clear," she told Quicksilver just as they rounded the corner to come across an empty reception desk, "Pyro, door."

There was a pop as Pyro remotely unlocked the door and buzzed them through to the next room. Several desks lined the room, facing each other, and frosted glass doors to offices dotted the walls.

"I've got the offices," Quicksilver said and then disappeared in a flash.

Rogue sat down at the first desk, sticking a USB drive from her purse into the computer and let it run the program.

…

"Milk, one sugar," the guard had returned, putting the coffee down in front of him.

"Brilliant," he nearly slipped out of his fake accent.

"You fixed it?" the man asked.

"You had malware, which is amazing since these are supposed to be secure," Pyro shook his head, "I swear, one day the world governments will fall and it will all be because someone visits the wrong triple-X site."

"You…" he cleared his throat, "aren't going to say anything, right?"

"Are you kidding?" Pyro laughed, "this shit right here keeps me in a job."

…

"That's the last of them," Rogue checked her watch, still plenty of time.

"And they'll never know we were here," the speedster managed a smile.

With that, the two mutants headed out the way they came, quietly exiting the offices of Homeland Security, Special Projects, Assistant Director Valerie Cooper.

* * *

**1X06 – The Trask at Hand – Tag**

"It still bothers me," Scott shook his head as Ororo pulled her Focus up to the garage.

"It's going to bother all of us," Jean admitted from the back seat next to JP.

"Whatever it is," the Canadian said, "I'm sure we'll find out eventually."

"Just hopefully not too late," Scott sighed, but then as the garage door opened, he couldn't believe what he was looking at.

"Oh my," Jean must have seen it too, "are those…?"

"Look like it to me," JP leaned between the seats as Ororo brought her car to rest next to the SUV.

Instantly everyone was out, checking out the damage to Bobby's _Escape_, Ororo the first to say, "We need to check on them."

"Wait," Jean had her hand to her temple, "they're fine, they didn't get hurt."

"Thank god," Scott breathed a sigh of relief, "what happened here?"

"We should go see the Professor," Jean told them, "it will be best to leave Bobby and Kitty for now."

…

"I'm going to regret this later."

"Probably."

Empty cartons of ice cream laid strewn about the floor next to the two mutants who had tucked themselves away into a corner of the kitchen between a mobile freezer and a cabinet. They sat facing each other, their backs against the structures, feet pressed to each other's with their knees in the air.

"So," Kitty, freshly showered, was digging into some Cookies and Cream, "you have a _super_ secret stash."

"Until Jubilee finds it, yeah," he ate a spoonful of Rocky Road.

She gave a light chuckle at that thought, surprised the girl hadn't found it already. Kitty wondered if maybe she had but left it alone so Bobby wouldn't know and continue to keep ice cream on stock for her to 'appropriate'.

Then a frown fell uncontrollably to her lips, "William was a nice guy."

Bobby glanced up, an unusually thoughtful look on his face, "I think he generally wanted a peaceful world," he shrugged, "just went about it the wrong way."

"She shot him," the memory was fresh and hazy at the same time, "didn't even hesitate."

"There's nothing you could have done," Bobby reminded her, trying to be helpful, she supposed.

"I could have tried to disarm her," Kitty pointed out, "that's what Logan's been teaching me."

"You taking on Mystique?" he let out a bit of a chuckle, "that's about as smart as me taking on Sabretooth, and we know how that turned out."

Kitty scrunched up her nose, "I didn't know it was her though, I just picked the easy option, cut and run."

"It was the smart option," he pointed his spoon at her, "and this is Mystique we're talking about, she blew the place up, she was gonna wrack up a body count regardless if we were there or not. If anything, we saved a lot of people, Trask, those in the meeting hall."

"Stop sounding reasonable, Bobby," Kitty frowned and started to roll the lump of ice cream at the bottom of her container around, "or I'll start thinking you're actually Mystique."

"Hhhmmm," he pressed his lips together, "blue might be a good look for me."

Letting out an involuntary chuckle, she appreciated his humor but shouldn't help but think, "Professor is going to take me off the team."

"He tell you that?" Bobby asked.

"Not in so many words," she sighed.

"You're eighteen in like, what, a month? Worst he could do is make you sit out for a bit," he pointed out, but when she didn't immediately say anything, "You do want to stay on the team, right?"

"I dunno," Kitty leaned her head back to rest it against the cabinet, "I just watched a man die and all I can think of is two things: one, the bullets passed through me, they _went_ _through_ me, and two, I was right."

Bobby shook his head lightly in confusion, "Right about what?"

"If we don't stop the Brotherhood now," she caught his eyes, "then Jubilee, Meg, Ben… all these kids are going to go through the same thing, maybe even worse… I can't let that happen. I won't."

The Ice Man looked down, unable to continue to meet her gaze, "It's a big lie, you know, one person can't save the world."

"Maybe not," she replied quietly, "but why should that stop me from trying?"

He didn't answer her, so the two mutants continued to sit, tucked away in their little corner of the world…

…

A man paced in one of the bunkers, "You said no one knew I was here."

"I don't think they were after you, Boliver," Simon told his brother, "the two mutants were at one of our meetings yesterday, got themselves an invite. I think they were planning on destroying our base, we just became a bonus."

"Mutants," he shook his head, "nothing but destructive abominations."

"They got away," Simon apologized, "but we chased them out before they could do more damage," he waved at one of his team members forward, "we have Jameson to thank for that."

Jameson stepped forward, giving a slight nod of his head, "I saw an opportunity, I took advantage of it."

"Forward thinker, good," Boliver sized him up, "we could definitely use more men like you in the HLS."

"Jameson," Simon caught his attention, "I want you to put together a team to see Boliver back to his base."

"Good idea," Jameson said thoughtfully, "if the mutants found out he was here, they might try to take advantage of it."

"My thoughts exactly," Simon nodded, "or at the very least, they could come back to try to finish the job of destroying the camp."

"We'll have to abandon it anyway," Boliver sighed, "they know where it is now."

"This is true," Simon agreed with his brother.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Jameson smiled, "sometimes these things have a way of working out better in your favor."

* * *

**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series**

* * *

**On the next episode of **_**X-Men: The (fan fic) Series…**_

_—"I save people's lives, I don't care what colors they're waving." – Cecilia Reyes_

_—"Theresa!" – Jean_  
_"Mr Cassidy." – Scott_

_—"There's no doubt Moira's work is important, so why you wanna turn her island into a penal colony?" – Sean Cassidy_

_—"Vigilantism isn't the answer, but it sounds really good, doesn't it?" – Jean_

_—Call 911!" – Cecilia_

_**Episode 1X07 – El Chacal**_

* * *

**1X06 – The Trask at Hand**

Written by JayCee

Based off Marvel Comics' _X-Men _created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby,  
with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

Executive Producer – JayCee  
Co-Producer – Chellerbelle

Soundtrack: Safe and Sound by Capital Cities

This is an unofficial fan site. It is not sponsored, licensed, or approved by Marvel Characters, Inc, Marvel Studios, Marvel Entertainment, 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, Fox Broadcasting Company, Ford Motor Company, or any other entities which may receive direction mention.

"X-Men" is a registered trademark of Marvel Characters, Inc.

All original content Copyright © 2012-2013 JayCee and xmenthefanficseries DOT com.  
All trademarks are properties of their respective owners.


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